Time's Up
by Gotbooks93
Summary: After successfully hiding the existence of her son for eight years, Hermione is out of luck and and out of time. When the father of her child discovers their secret, their quiet worlds are forever changed. Join Hermione as she takes on the challenges of co-parenting, snake charming, and a crazy little thing called 'love'. WIP
1. ONE

**Time's Up**

**Summary: **_After successfully hiding the existence of her son for eight years, Hermione is out of luck and time. When the father of her child discovers her secret, their quiet worlds are changed forever. Join Hermione as she takes on the challenges of co-parenting, snake charming, and a crazy little thing called 'love'._

_**Disclaimer: I own many things, including a stuffed giraffe toy. However, I do not own anyone or anything when it comes to the world of Harry Potter. JK Rowling does. The end.**_

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><p><em><strong>CHAPTER ONE<strong>_

_The Standard Book of Spells (Year 3)_ by Miranda Goshawk

_A Beginner's Guide to Charms_ by Leona Litterburough

_A Guide to Charms for the Intermediate Student_ by Noel Wrappison

_Common Chants and Charms, and How to Use Them_ by E.D. McFurrell

_Quintessence: A Quest_ by Hester Meany

As she perused the books in the Charms section, twenty eight year old Hermione Granger let her mind wander. The sounds within Flourish and Blotts Book Store were muffled, mostly due to the lack of people within the shop. It was a Friday afternoon, and few patrons chose the cool, quiet bookstore over the warm sunshine outside.

A few shelves to her right, she could hear an old man muttering under his breath in the Potions section. Two young witches giggled together in the Romance area whilst reading a book on love potions, and a middle-aged man stood in the Divination Department, seemingly enthralled in whatever book he had picked up. She sighed, and went back to browsing.

As the Charms Professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Hermione was obligated to pick out the required books for each year's class. The end of the current year was coming to a close, and she was worried about getting an appropriate book list for her upper level students. First, second, third, and fourth year students were easy, as far as books went. She would require the tried and true copies of Miranda Goshawk's _Standard Book of Spells_, and recommend additional books to interested students.

Her older students, however, were beginning to prepare either for their O.W.L.s or their N.E.W.T.s. As such, she tried to require at least one extra reading book, besides their copy of _The Standard Book of Spells_. With a grimace, she chose _Common Charms and Chants, And How to Use Them_ from the shelf. She didn't particularly agree with the author's point of view when it came to practical use, but the section on ancient charms was top quality.

Satisfied, Hermione ticked the chore off her mental list.

Now, just one more thing to collect before she left the store. Heading over to the Children's department, her eyes swept the spot, defined by low shelving and brightly colored rug. The area was in the corner of the shop, with half- walls closing it in. Two little girls talked animatedly to their mother, occasionally gesturing to a bright pink book, insisting they needed it. But besides those three, the space seemed deserted.

Undeterred, Hermione headed to the furthest shelves, the ones tucked back against the wall. Here, the books were tamer colors, with thicker pages, smaller print, and fewer pictures. Tucked into the corner was a little boy. This particular little boy happened to belonged to Hermione Granger.

In his current position, little could be seen of him. A mop of curly, dark hair spilled around his ears, his bowed head concealed his face. His legs were tucked up against his chest, with a book propped against his knees. Long, slender fingers curled around the edges of the book, the nails neat and clean. His skin was neither pale nor dark, but rather a light tan, as if he sometimes spent time in the sun. Hermione knew better.

"Xander." she said softly, crouching down to his level. "What have you found, darling?"

He slowly raised a single finger, indicating she wait a moment. As his eyes stayed glued to the page, Hermione suppressed a snicker. She waited patiently, stroking a hand over his glossy hair. After a minute had passed, she invoked is rarely- used full name. "Alexander."

He raised his head, and Hermione's heart beat just a little bit faster as she looked into his eyes. Framed by dark, thick lashes, their amber hue reflecting a soul much older than his seven year old body.

"Mother, did you know that grindylows can breathe underwater?" his voice was quiet and smooth.

"Yes, darling, I did. They can also swim as fast as the average broomstick."

"Really?" the boy seemed mildly interested, casually flipping forward in the book. "May I please buy this book, Mother? It's very interesting." He flashed the cover at her, the title in glittering golden text. _The Young Person's Guide to Magical Creatures_.

Taking the book from him, she flipped to the beginning pages. There, under the publishing information, was the statement 'Intended for children aged 10 and older'. This made her purse her lips. On one hand, she didn't ever want to deny her son knowledge. On the other, the age recommendation was usually included due to more disturbing content, such as fatal encounters.

Tapping the book's binding against her left palm, she regarded her son. "How about this," she began, noting her son's furrowed eyebrows, a clear sign of frustration. "I will buy the book, and put it away until your birthday in two weeks. After that, we'll go over the chapters as you read them, and talk about the ins and outs of certain defensive tactics. Too many children think that they can handle, say, a grindylow, just because they've read about them. This is rarely the case, and I don't want to take the chance with you."

Her seven year old smirked. "Mother, you know I'm entirely too clever to get snatched by one."

"Never the less," Hermione continued, "that is my final offer."

Xander leaned back, looking at his mother closely. Sensing her iron will in place, he conceded. "All right. But you better hide it somewhere good, because if I find it, I'm going to read it. It's only fair."

Hermione smiled softly at her son. "Very well. Now, let's get going, we still need to pick up a present for Jamie."

They moved across the store, Hermione holding several charms books, while Xander clutched his. Glancing down at him, Hermione noted his hair and height. "We'll need to get your hair cut soon, and some new trousers. You're growing taller." She thought the comment would please him, but a glance downwards showed his mouth set in a thin line.

"I don't want to get my hair cut, Mother." he said, a note of petulance creeping into his voice.

"Why ever not?" Hermione asked, confused.

"If I keep my hair longer, people can't see my eyes as well. People tend to do things they wouldn't, when they think no one is watching."

Trying to suppress her disquiet over his comment, she mentally sighed. More and more every day, she observed Slytherin traits within her son. It was little wonder, really, when one considered his parentage, but that didn't stop her from worrying. It wasn't that Xander was cruel, by any means- he was well behaved, and had a good head on his shoulders. But sometimes, when she caught him doing something remarkably ambitious, or a little sneaky, she wondered just how many of his father's traits he had inherited.

This is not to say that he didn't have his share of other qualities. While he usually possessed a level head, Xander had a rather devastating temper when provoked. This, coupled with his accidental magic, often left something shattered, transported, or otherwise damaged. The vases in her home had certainly seen their fair share of mending charms. Besides his Gryffindor temper, her son possessed a cool intellect, and a hunger for knowledge, reminiscent of the house of Ravenclaw. His somber temperament sometimes worried her, especially when she saw other children his age, laughing and playing. But he never showed any interest in playing along, preferring to watch and make mental notes of his peer's behavior.

"Yes well, I like to see your lovely eyes without having to move aside your hair. We can go down to the barber shop by Grandma and Grandpa's when we visit next week. Maybe we should pick some trousers from Twilfitt and Tatting's since we're here anyway." She mused, ignoring Xander's horrified look. There was nothing he hated more than being poked and prodded by the shop assistants, all of whom cooed at him, exclaiming how handsome he was, what a heart-breaker he would be when he was older. They were rarely deterred by his unamused expression, a small scowl on his face.

After purchasing their books, the duo slipped out of the shop, heading down the street towards Twilfitt and Tatting's Wizarding Attire. As they exited, Xander's hand slipped into her own discretely. For whatever reason, he feared large crowds, and always slid closer to his mother when they moved through the teeming alley. Hermione suspected he had a mild claustrophobic fear of closed- in spaces. However, she made sure not to comment on his actions, knowing he prided himself on his maturity... and mature young men did not hold their mother's hands in death grips when in crowded places.

True to form, the shop assistants crooned over Xander as their enchanted measuring tapes collected his sizes, mentioning how much he had grown since he was there last.

"So tall and handsome," said commented the manager as she rang them up at the register, "I supposed he gets his height from his father, then?" she asked, looking at Hermione's unimpressive five feet, four inch height.

Feeling her son's eyes drilling into the side of her head, Hermione made a non- committal noise. Neither Xander nor his father knew of the other's identity, and she had every intention to keep it that way. As a result, Xander questioned her endlessly over his paternal heritage. Hermione took great pains to avoid his questioning, trying to distract him to end his relentless inquiries. This tactic rarely worked, and as a result Xander had collected a small arsenal of random fact about his father. Hermione was careful to tell him only trivial tidbits of information, like his favorite foods, or their mutual love of books.

Unbeknownst to either father or son, she kept careful tabs on the former's whereabouts and actions. They still had a few mutual friends, and he was in the paper every once in a while.

Despite her own popularity as a war heroine, Hermione was careful to keep media coverage off her son which earned her a reputation as a 'private person' among reporters. Thank Merlin the media coverage in the wizarding world was somewhat limited. _The Daily Prophet_, _Witch Weekly_, and _The Quibbler_ were the only real wizarding publications in the UK, and she knew Luna well enough not to worry about any interference from _The Quibbler_. Rita Skeeter remained an unregistered animagus, and knew Hermione wouldn't hesitate to blackmail her, should she take a special interest in Xander. _Witch Weekly _knew Hermione was rather reclusive, and knew her disinterest in any tell- all interviews.

Around five o'clock, they exited Diagon Alley, holding an additional bag from Kerber Toy Emporium. Inside was James Potter's fifth birthday present, already wrapped. Hermione was the boy's godmother, and Xander had developed a grudging affection for the child over the years. James, along with three-year-old Albus, both adored him, looking up to him as an older brother. Once, Xander had declared that green beans were gross, and refused to eat them; it was months before Albus and James would so much as look at the vegetable, let alone eat one. After that, whenever they visited the Potter household, Hermione always reminded Xander to mind his comments and opinions.

Getting a firm grip on both the bags and her son, Hermione apparated them both to the back garden of the Potter residence. The house was situated in a quiet muggle neighborhood, and Hermione knew better than to suddenly appear on the front porch during the day.

"Hello?" Hermione called out, approaching the back of the house.

Through the open kitchen window, she could hear the voices of several people, and the squeals of children fading in and out. Suddenly, the door was thrown open, and James rushed out, soon followed by Albus. Both shouted Xander's name, and the boy in question gave a small sigh. As he constantly reminded Hermione, he was "nearly eight, and too old for little kids!" Despite this, he gave a small smile toward his adopted cousins, and wished James a happy birthday.

"Yes Jamie sweetheart, happy birthday." Hermione said, giving her godson a kiss on the cheek. After returning her kiss, his attention immediately returned to Xander. Giving his mother a long- suffering look, the older boy ushered both boys back into the house. Hermione followed, looking around the room at the other inhabitants of the room. Within a few seconds, she was approached by Mrs. Potter.

The majority of the wizarding population presumed that Ginny Weasley would become Mrs. Harry Potter after her graduation, including Harry Potter, himself. However, when one finds their long- term girlfriend in a passionate embrace with Pansy Parkinson, things tend to go a little haywire. After several weeks of the cold shoulder, Ginny's betrayal was forgiven. In the meantime, Ginny and Pansy had emerged as one of the community's highest- profile lesbian couples in the history of Hogwarts. Following their respective graduations, they had moved in together, and were currently looking into adopting a baby from a third world country.

And so it was not Ginny that approached Hermione that day, but Luna Potter, nee Lovegood. After the shocking break up of Harry and Ginny, Luna had been a sympathetic friend to the Boy Who Lived. That friendship turned out to become much more as they left Hogwarts. Within a year, they were engaged. The rest, as they say, was history.

"Hermione, I'm so glad you could make it." Luna greeted in her soft, dreamy voice. The two hugged, and Luna moved toward the kitchen, calling over her shoulder that Hermione should make herself at home.

Turning toward the rest of the room, Hermione looked around. Ginny and Pansy were lounging at the small wet bar in the corner; Pansy held a bright pink cocktail, Ginny a firewiskey. Hermione found this oddly fitting for the couple. On the love seat sat Bill and Fluer Weasley, who were conversing with Neville Longbottom and Seamus Finnigan. A pretty brunette was perched in Seamus' lap, looking like a bit of an airhead.

Seamus, however, didn't seem to mind at all. Hermione suppressed a snort. The good- looking Irishman had a tendency to attract pretty girls, but few of them were able to string together an opinion on much outside of shopping and the latest copy of _Witch Weekly_. The girls had only gotten prettier and dumber as Seamus' sports bar, Finnigan's, opened last year. The bar was located just off Diagon Alley, and attracted Quidditch fans all over the U.K. The last Hermione had heard, the bar was doing quite well financially.

Sitting on the window seat along the back wall were Fred and George Weasley, Lee Jordan, Katie Bell, and Terry Boot. Gathered at their feet was a small group of children. Several sported Weasley- red hair, including Victorie and Dominique, Bill and Fuer's children, and Lucy, Percy and Audrey's daughter. James and Albus sat on the floor, as did a few children Hermione didn't recognize. Deciding they must be friends of James' from nursery school, she turned to see what held their attention. Fred and George were holding something in their hands, and occasional bursts of light and sound were escaping every few seconds. Hoping the twins knew what they were doing, Hermione's eyes sought out Xander.

He stood along a wall close by to the twin's show, quietly talking to Teddy Lupin. Teddy's hair was flashing from blue to black to red and back. The two boys were only a few months apart and best friends. Teddy had lived with the Potters ever since Andromeda Tonks passed away last year. Hermione thought the woman died of heart break, but the official cause of death was a stroke. In spite of the loss of his last remaining blood relative, Teddy retained his cheerful and kind self. The only time she had ever seen him serious was at his grandmother's funeral, and when he talked to her son. Xander caught her eye and smiled faintly, before turning back to his conversation. Merlin knew what those two talked about.

"Hermione! You made it!"

The call came from across the room, near the magically enlarged table. Harry Potter and Ron Weasley sat among a large group of adults, and were motioning her over. She smiled at people as she passed them, happy to see Dean Thomas and his fiancée, Hannah Abbot, Percy and Audrey Weasley, and Cho Chang. Lisa Turpin sat beside Oliver Wood, with Colin and Dennis Creevey at the end of the table.

Squeezing into a seat between Harry and Ron, she greeted them both, making small talk. The three friends had remained close over the years, and made a point to meet every other week to catch up. Their busy schedules often conflicted, but they made it work. Harry's auror duties and growing family took up a lot of time. Hermione's classes and son kept her busy through the week, and Ron's quidditch schedule had him constantly traveling. He now played professionally for the Chudley Cannons, turning their decades- old losing streak around. The team was currently a favorite for the Quidditch World Cup, and Ron was feeling the love. Groupies flocked to the team, and Hermione was mildly surprised he hadn't brought along a 'date' to the party.

"So, no groupie tonight?" she questioned softly, gently bumping his shoulder with her own.

Ron blushed lightly, shaking his head. "No, none of them are really the type I would bring along to my godson's birthday. No date for you, either?" He teased, knowing the answer.

"You know I don't date, Ronald." Hermione replied tartly, secretly proud of his maturity. Lately she was beginning to notice a change in her friend; his gaze sometimes lingered on couples when they went out to eat, and she suspected he was a little envious of his friends and family, as they started families of their own. Maybe one of these days he would start looking for someone who cared less about the fame and fortune of dating a Quidditch Player Slash War Hero, and more about the man underneath the uniform.

"Well, why not?" asked Harry from her other side.

"What?" she asked, confused.

"Why don't you date, Hermione? I know we joke around about it a lot, but Xander isn't that young anymore. Why keep holding yourself back?"

"Oh, Harry, not this again." Hermione said, exasperated. "Look, I don't have time to raise a child, teach a full time course, and date. Maybe when Xander is older."

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the loud voice of Molly Weasley.

"All right, everyone. Grab a plate and come get food in the kitchen! Fred and George Weasley, you put… whatever it is you have down right now!"

The night continued with good food, laughter, and hearty conversation. James opened his small mountain of presents, and was delighted with Hermione's gift, a set of miniature dueling figurines. His adoration for Xander grew even more, if that was possible. Around eight o' clock, James and Albus were ushered to bed by Luna. The adults with children left soon after, leaving a small group of relaxed adults behind.

At nine o'clock, Hermione caught Xander blinking slowly, obviously worn out. Teddy had been sent to bed by Harry a half hour earlier, leaving Xander with a lack of companionship, and thus nothing to keep him awake.

Bumping his shoulder gently, she suggested they floo home. All she received was an exhausted nod, as he went to the closet to gather his coat. Turning around, Hermione came face- to- face with Pansy Parkinson.

Hermione suppressed her automatic glare. She was still training herself to be nice to the other woman, but it was difficult after so many years of animosity. They were always careful to act cordially, for Ginny's sake. Hermione was quite close with the redheaded girl, and Pansy obviously adored her partner.

"I think we need to talk, Granger. Now." Despite her girly appearance, Pansy Parkinson had a no-nonsense attitude.

"Look, Parkinson, tonight isn't a good night. Xander is exhausted, and I have a staff meeting tomorrow morning. Can't this wait?" Hermione asked, already grabbing her purse.

"No, it can't wait. It has to be _now_." Pansy grabbed Hermione's wrist, making eye contact.

Heaving a long sigh, Hermione turned to Xander, who had just walked up behind her. "Darling, it looks like I need to do something," Hermione said, "why don't you go ask Aunt Luna if you can lie down in the guest bed room until this is cleared up."

Taking a long look at Pansy's hand around his mother's wrist, he hesitated, and then acquiesced, walking toward the stairs.

"Okay, Parkinson, you have my attention. Now, what is so important?"

Dragging Hermione onto the back porch, Pansy firmly shut the door behind her. Lighting her wand and glancing around, she checked for any eavesdroppers.

Taking a deep breath, she began to speak quickly, "Look, I know you've been very careful about the secret of who Alexander's father is. But I've already figured it out…"

Hermione's blood ran cold, and her horrified expression only spurred the Slytherin girl to talk faster.

"…and quite frankly, I don't care. If I wasn't so close to him, I probably wouldn't have figured it out. The kid is just like his dad, anyway. I mean, how many other six year olds-"

"He's seven."

"Fine, how many seven year olds are content to sit and observe people for several hours? 'Cause when he wasn't talking to the Lupin brat, that's what he did. Bit of a Slytherin trait, that." She paused with a grin, "Anyway, I thought you would want to know that his father is coming back to Britian, to stay. He's sick of France, so he's moving back into one of his family's houses. And trust me, Granger; he's going to find out about Alexander. I strongly suggest you tell him before he happens upon the information himself."

Thinking she was calling a bluff, Hermione spoke. "Look, how do I even know we're talking about the same person?"

Giving her the 'You-are-such-a-moronic-Gryffindor' look, Pansy said two words that Hermione least wanted to hear: "Blaise Zabini."

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><p>Chapter One Author's Note:<p>

**Okay, so they won't normally be this long, but I need to get some stuff out of the way.**

Firstly, I this fic is rated M for a reason. I have the first couple of chapters already nailed out, and while this first two chapters are pretty tame, there's going to be some more adult stuff in the future. This isn't a particularly angsty fic, but there's a bit of brutality in a couple more chapters. Also, some scenes of the citrus variety will appear at some point, along with some no- no words. You've been warned.

For anyone who is offended by the Ginny/Pansy relationship: I'm not making you read this story. True, I won't be doing any femslash scenes, but that particular couple is semi-important to the story. So get over it, or go away. Those are your options. This also applies to the random pairings (such as Harry/ Luna) I've thrown in for fun. Quite frankly, I'm sick of seeing the usual couples. I think it's time to spice things up. As for Fred, I just can't accept that he's dead. I could deal with Mad Eye, Lupin, and even Dobby. But not Fred. So as far as I'm concerned, he's still up to his usual shenanigans, along with George.

Also, I have a Twilight story ("Call Me Bella") out there, as well. It's been put on hold for the moment, because of some errors, and I had a major case of writer's block. For those that were following that story, I HAVE NOT ABANDONED IT. It's currently being edited and finished, and will start being updated on the site eventually.

But I'm learning from my mistakes, and decided not to post anything for this story until I had at least a couple of completed chapters. This fic will not be abandoned, but I'm a college student, so there may be some irregularities as far as postings go. Bear with me, people.

Well, that's pretty much it. Constructive criticism is, as always, more than welcome. Let me know if you think it's worth continuing. If not, I'll store it away on my hard drive for a while.

Peace out,

Gotbooks93


	2. TWO

**Time's Up by Gotbooks93**

**Summary: **_After successfully hiding the existence of her son for eight years, Hermione is out of luck and time. When the father of her child discovers her secret, their quiet worlds are changed forever. Join Hermione as she takes on the challenges of co-parenting, snake charming, and a crazy little thing called 'love'._

_**Disclaimer: I own many things, but not any recognizable characters, things, or places in the Harry Potter series. Somehow, I doubt that JKR would agree to joint custody…shame, that.**_

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><p><em><strong>CHAPTER TWO<strong>_

"Wh- what?" Hermione asked, horrified.

"Oh, honestly, Granger. I told you I knew who it was. Blaise and I were pretty close back in school, and later during the war. Who do you think covered for him when he snuck away to see you? Yeah, that would be me. So, I get it, you're shocked, bla, bla, bla. Let's move on, shall we?" Pansy Parkinson's patience seemed to be growing thin. "Just be glad I'm not mad about not being Alexander's godmother. If Blaise had known about him from the start, I would be a shoo- in for the job. But, seriously, you need to figure out a plan. Blaise has been globe- trotting ever since the war ended, but it looks like your luck has run out. I don't see why you didn't just tell him from the start, anyway. If you had, you'd have a ring on your finger, and spend your days spending his money and living in Zabini manor, rather than teaching a bunch of brats how to _wingardium leviosa_ feathers."

"Look, why I didn't tell Blaise about Xander is my own business. I would be more worried about you telling him, but you probably would have done it by now. So listen up: I have no intention to tell Blaise _or _Xander about each other any time soon. I'll tell my son when he's older, if he still wants to know. But my son and I are both completely fine without anyone else in our lives, and it's going to stay that way. We don't need Blaise, and I don't want him. So, thank you for telling me about his arrival in Britain, I appreciate it. But nothing is going to change." With that, Hermione spun on her heel and went back into the house.

She listened for any sounds of pursuit, but heard none. Slipping past the still occupied living room, Hermione headed upstairs, silently passing James and Albus' room. At the end of the hall, she opened the door to the guest bedroom. There, curled up on the bed, was her son. Moonlight spilled onto the bed through the uncovered window, and Xander's face lay illuminated against the harsh white of the bed spread. It always struck Hermione how tense he was during the day, especially when she saw his face relaxed in sleep.

Softly sitting down on the bed beside him, Hermione carded her fingers through his dark hair. He was undoubtedly the most precious thing in her life- she would do anything to protect him. During the beginning of her pregnancy, Hermione had seen the baby inside of her as a nuisance, something that was going to ruin her life. She saw herself becoming poverty- stricken and unable to go to university, a failure. After living through the war and earning her place among wizarding society, she would become another washed up student, reduced to a menial assistant, or working in some run down shop.

Then one night, she told Molly Weasley the whole sordid affair. Cried her heart out, bemoaning her future existence, only to have herself dragged out of her chair, given a sharp shake, and told quite firmly, "You will become a failure when doxies become sweet tempered angels. Now, get a hold of yourself. No child of mine will be denied university if they're determined to have it. Now, how far along are you?"

They had spent that night- and many nights following- devising a plan. Hermione would sign up for the upcoming semester at the U.K.'s wizarding university, and take a semester of classes. She would have the baby, and finish her schooling in the meantime. She ended up living in the nearly- empty Burrow with Arthur and Molly. Despite the grueling task of raising a child while going to school full time, Hermione made a little extra money doing research for some of the professors at the university, and by substitute teaching at Hogwarts when the need arose.

She spent all her spare time either sleeping or spending time with her son, and from the moment she first felt him kick in her womb, Hermione had fallen in love with the child, and began to work harder than ever. Alexander Thomas Granger came into the world at 3 a.m. on June 8th, after seventeen hours of labor. That squirming, screaming, blood covered alien was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

After cramming three years of studies into two, Hermione managed to get an apprenticeship with Professor Filius Flitwick, who was delighted to finally have someone take up his mantle. For years, he had been looking for a replacement so he could retire and taught Hermione everything he knew. The term after she received her Mastery in Charms, Hermione was appointed the new Charms Mistress at Hogwarts. She had already been living at Hogwarts with Xander for a little over a year, and many of the students had already met Professor Granger's adorable little boy, who stayed with Poppy Pomfrey when she was working.

When Xander was three, Hermione taught her first class at the age of twenty three. For the past five years, the two had lived happily in their quarters at Hogwarts. Xander had begun going to a daytime tutor with Teddy Lupin for the past few years, along with several other wizarding children. He devoured every speck of knowledge his tutor gave him. Although he had several other friends, none were as close as Teddy. Xander was a loner by nature, something that Teddy was mostly able to respect. The boy often delighted in directly matching his own appearance to Xander's, something that drove the younger boy mad.

Looking down, Hermione studied her son's features. While her hair was a light shade of brown and had to be charmed into submission, his remained dark brown and glossy at all times... just like his father's. His eyes, also matched his father's. The unusually light shade of hazel often unsettled the people around him, but the color was known to darkened when his temper flared. His nose matched her own, slightly upturned, but lacked the faint dusting of freckles on her own. Or, perhaps if he had freckles they were obscured under his lightly tanned skin tone. While Blaise had a slightly darker completion, common for people of Italian heritage, she was pale. Xander had gotten a lovely mix of the two.

He had also inherited his father's lips and teeth, thank Merlin. She remembered the teasing her own buck- teeth had caused acutely, and was grateful Xander would be spared the same scrutiny. He had gotten her ears, too. While the bottom of her earlobes was unattached from her neck, she distinctly remembered Blaise's were attached. Hermione remembered stroking his handsome face, as they hungrily memorized each other's features during those sweet, stolen hours-

'No.' Hermione mentally reprimanded herself. 'Don't think about that. It's in the past, and that's where it will stay.'

Looking down on her son once more, Hermione found herself looking into those enchanting eyes. They were half closed, and Hermione knew that if she didn't act soon, she would be carrying her son to the floo downstairs.

"Xander, darling, it's time to go. Let's get down to the floo, okay?" she gently coaxed him from the warm bed, putting on his shoes and coat. He shuffled down the stairs and to the floo, allowing both Harry and Luna to hug him goodbye before they left. Stepping into the green flames, her child tucked into her side, she waved as she shouted "Professor Granger's quarters, Hogwarts!"

~(o)~

It was early the next morning that Hermione stumbled out of bed, roused by her alarm. Normally, both she and her son were fans of having a lie- in on Saturday mornings, but, as she had informed Pansy Parkinson the night before, she had a staff meeting to attend. After a quick shower in her en suite bathroom, Hermione dressed in dark-wash jeans, a green long sleeved shirt, and a pretty necklace. Charming her hair into halfway- manageable curls, she shrugged on a teaching robe, and set off.

There were two entrances to Hermione's personal quarters. The first was connected to her office, which was connected to her classroom. The second was located at the opposite end of the charms corridor, an inconspicuous door next to the main staircases; while the actual location of the rooms was almost seventy meters from the door, there was no corridor or passageway between the two spots. Hermione decided this was just another Hogwarts mystery, and went on her way. Xander did not. To this day, he searched for the reasoning behind the strange distance gap. Whenever Hermione used this exit, she always smiled, thinking of her son and his plight.

Hurrying down the sparsely populated staircases, she made it to the staff lounge just as the clock struck eight. Slipping inside, she spotted her usual chair on the left side of the room. Sitting down, she observed the other staff members. Minerva McGonagall sat in her chair at the head of the table, the place of countless headmasters and headmistresses before her.

The old, worn table seated a mix of old and new teachers. Professor Sprout sat to McGonagall's right, along with Hagrid, Professor Binns, Professor Firenze, Professor Vector, and Madams Hooch, Pomfrey, and Prince. Filch, the old bastard, sulked around in the background, muttering to Mrs. Norris, who wound around his legs.

On the headmistress' left sat Scott Benley, an American wizard who now filled the Potion's position. Other new members of the staff included Nadir Gupta, a wizard from India who taught Muggle Studies, and David Fenster, an English wizard who taught Astronomy. Two other newer teachers were Neville Longbottom, who was Professor Sprout's apprentice, and Lisa Turpin, who taught Transfiguration. Lisa and Neville shared tired smiles with Hermione across the table, having stayed even later than Hermione did at the Potter's party the night before.

"Well, there are two weeks left in the school year," began McGonagall, smiling slightly at her staff's sighs of relief, "and I will need everyone's book lists for the student supply lists by tomorrow. Next Monday begins exam week, for which a schedule has been sent to all of your offices. If you could post a copy outside your doors for the student's benefit, it would be appreciated."

The meeting moved on to other concerns the teachers held. Professor Vector reported a broken hand rail on one of the staircases, and Hermione commented on the unexpected improving marks of several students, to which several other professors concurred. It was announced that two seventh- year boys were up for staff- wide detention, due to some after- hours flying on their brooms. Both boys would serve one detention with each teacher, every night until the end of the year. Hermione thought this was more fair than not. Normally, the boys would have been suspended for at least a week, which would cause them to miss their N.E.W.T.s, and thus receive failing grades. She began to compose a mental list of manual labor in her classroom, which she knew the boys could handle.

"Two more things," said McGonagall, near the end of the meeting. "Firstly, we are all required to be present to meet with the Hogwarts Board of Governors on the last Thursday of the school year. Not this coming Thursday, but the one immediately following. Nadir, I know you can't come, so you've been cleared. The rest of you are expected at eight o'clock, sharp. And finally," the headmistress said, shooting a small smile in Hermione's direction, "we will all be celebrating the eighth birthday of our own Mr. Alexander Granger on the last day of school, directly following the departure of students. Please meet here at two o'clock for cake and to wish him well."

There were quiet chuckles around the room, as Xander was a favorite among the staff. Many teachers had families at Hogwarts whist they were professors, and Hogwarts had seen its share of babies, toddlers, and young children. However, Xander was the first child for a long time, and had a large number of adopted aunts and uncles as a result.

"You are dismissed." Declared McGonagall, and the staff left in groups of two and three, hurrying to take advantage of their days off.

~(o)~

The weekend passed quickly, as usual. Hermione and Xander visited her parents, giving him over to their care while she picked up the last of his birthday presents- she knew better than to store them within their quarters. Xander had the tendency to search the rooms top to bottom when there was something she hid inside. Instead, she stored _The Young Person's Guide to Magical Creatures_ and his other presents in one of her classroom's storage cupboards, placing a light invisibility charm on them. She would have done the same in a cupboard somewhere in their quarters, but Xander was clever enough to randomly reach into open spaces, feeling around in the seemingly empty air. This had worked for him more than once, and Hermione had to think of new tactics every year at Christmas and on his birthday.

When she apparated back to her parent's house, she followed the sounds of laughter to her father's study. On one side of the large mahogany desk sat Xander, his legs tucked under himself, a plate of biscuits in hand and a smirk on his face. On the other side of the desk was her father Thomas, laughing heartily at something Xander had said.

"Do they really?" asked her father, still chuckling.

"Yeah I've seen them -" Xander cut off abruptly, spotting his mother in the doorway. "Mother, you're back."

Thomas swirled around in his chair, spotting his daughter. "Hello, pumpkin. How was your day?"

"Fine," Hermione said slowly, her tone suspicious. "What is it you two were talking about?"

"Oh, nothing." Said Thomas, obviously trying to suppress another chuckle from escaping.

"Xander?" she questioned her son, eyes drilling into him.

He shifted in his seat, avoiding her gaze. With a quiet laugh, her father interrupted her silent inquisition of the child.

"Oh, give the boy a break Hermione," he said easily, "he was just telling me about the actions of some of your students."

"My students?"

"Yes, apparently, some of your older male students get detention with you on purpose, to spend extra time with their pretty, young charms professor. It's a rite of passage for your seventh years, evidently. Your detentions are the most highly sought out, second only to… er, what's the chap's name, Xander?"

"Professor Benley." Xander mumbled, a light tinge coloring his cheeks.

"Yes, Professor Benley, who attracts the female portion of the student body. The American accent is supposedly quite the attraction." Her father chortled again, reaching for another biscuit off the plate on his desk.

Hermione was horrified. Her detentions had an undeniable male majority, especially in the beginning of the school year. Well, that would have to be straightened out, come next year.

"Thomas, Alexander, time for din- Oh, hello, darling." Enter, Teresa Granger. "I'll just whip up a plate for you, unless you're leaving Alexander here for the night?" Hermione's mother made no attempt to suppress her excitement at the idea of having her grandchild overnight.

Hermione had cast a memory modification on her parents directly before the Second Wizarding War had really commenced. She had barely finished her seventh year at Hogwarts when Voldemort had massacred several hundred muggles in London, thus starting the war in truth. For a year after leaving Hogwarts, Hermione had embarked on a horcrux hunt with Ron and Harry. They acquired and destroyed Slytherin's locket, Hufflepuff's cup, and Ravenclaw's diadem in that year, before joining the Order of the Pheonix to fight the war. Several battles were waged over the next year, and Nagini was destroyed in one of the battles. During those two terrible years that the war raged, Hermione's parents had lived in Australia, with no idea they had a daughter.

It was only after the war ended that Hermione found her parents, and removed the spell. They had been furious with her, refusing contact of any sort for at least a year. During that year, Hermione endured her pregnancy and gave birth to Xander. When she turned up on their doorstep a year later, cradling her baby, the three had a heartfelt reunion worthy of a Hallmark film. Ever since then, Hermione's parents had kept in close contact with Hermione, and doted on Xander whenever they saw him.

"I'll stay for dinner, if that's all right. But Xander and I need to be getting home tonight, he has exams to study for soon." Hermione answered her mother's hopeful inquiry.

With a pout, Teresa ushered Xander out of his chair and into the dining room. Thomas and Hermione soon followed. The four of them discussed Hermione's last two weeks of term, Xander's upcoming birthday, and Thomas and Teresa's annual dentistry conference in Cornwall. Teresa, as usual, tried to convince Hermione to go and meet "a nice young man" on the warm beaches. Hermione, true to form, politely refused. Not long after, she and Xander returned to Hogwarts.

~(o)~

The second to last week of school passed with no major incidents. On Tuesday morning, Hermione caught Xander aimlessly moving his hands around in the kitchen cupboard, looking for presents.

Careful to stay extra quiet, she tip- toed to stand behind her seven year old. Then standing up strait, and channeling the sticky- sweet voice of Delores Umbridge, Hermione loudly asked , "Darling, what is it you were looking for under there?"

His back stiffened, and he immediately stopped moving his hands through the air. Within a second, he had reached forward, plucked a cleaning rag from the pile, and turned an innocent face to hers. "Just a rag, Mother. I spilled something in my room. Don't worry, it didn't get on the carpet."

Hermione had to give the boy credit, he was a rather decent liar. If she hadn't just seen him looking for presents, she would have been completely fooled. Her uneasiness about his Slytherin traits reared up, only to be firmly squashed by a mental fist.

"Oh, really? Well, how about I grab one and we can clean up together?" not waiting for an answer, Hermione plucked an extra rag from the cabinet and headed for Xander's room.

The floor plan of Hermione's personal quarters was cozy, with the windows open during the day and a fire in the hearth at night. Immediately inside the two doors that served as entrances, one encountered a small greeting hall, with a small table and a vase of fresh flowers. This connected to what was the living room, which had long, clear windows that let sunlight to stream into the room, which in turn highlighted the jewel toned couches, overstuffed chairs, end tables, and bookshelves. There were several shelving sections, and each one reached from the floor to the celling. Whenever someone first visited the Granger's home, they seemed drawn to the large shelves, which were crammed with books on every subject, including arthrimicy, potions, magical creatures, and of course, charms. Hermione kept her more dangerous books on the top shelf, like her updated copy of _The Monster Book of Monsters_, and books on the Dark Arts.

Branching off of those rooms was the entrance to the kitchen, and a discreet corridor that lead to Hermione's room, Xander's room, and the hall bathroom. Xander often asked to have more shelving units put in his room in substitution of his bed, and bring in a fold- away cot to sleep on. Hermione sensibly refused this request. His room had a large window that faced the Quidditch pitch, which was next to a large bookcase that had been filled with books he had stolen from Hermione over the years. Several neat towers of books scattered the room.

Teddy Lupin often joked that one could read Xander's mood by the state of the window. If it was open, and uncovered, Xander was in a good mood, and those were the days Hermione could coax him into cleaning his room. On days the window was shut and shuddered, Xander was either sulking or looking to lash out.

Upon entering her son's domain, Hermione searched for the fabricated 'spill', and was shocked to find that there was, indeed, a spill. A glass of water had overturned on his bedside table, and soaked into the covering underneath.

"See, Mother? Not really a job for two. I'll clean it up right away, promise." He smiled at Hermione, and moved to clean it up. He subtly shifted to block her view of the mess, and she quickly stood on tip- toe to look over his shoulder. The glass and spill was beginning to fade away before her eyes, and Xander moved his rag aimlessly over the spot. Almost as if… almost as if he had wandlessly created an illusion.

But that was impossible. Her son was seven, and few adults could create an illusion wandlessly, let alone a child. Looking more closely at Xander, she scrutinized his face when he turned back around. "All cleaned up. I'll be more careful in the future, Mother." He smiled, but she noticed his eyelids were beginning to droop, and his shoulders slumped. Even though it was only late morning, the child looked exhausted.

Plastering on a smile, Hermione spoke. "Thank you for cleaning that up, sweetheart. But you look tired. Why don't you take a nap?" nodding dully, Xander moved towards the bed, leaving his bedside table exposed. There was no sign of a glass, or a single drop of water.

~(o)~

The following week was hectic for both Hermione and Xander. Hogwarts held their exam week in the first week of June, with results distributed during the next week, coinciding with the first week of summer break. Hermione's students were all cramming for their exams, their O.W.L.s, or their N.E.W.T.s. She hurried to get her student's exams graded, and her classroom packed up, with help from her two wayward seventh year boys.

Thankfully, both the Charms O.W.L. and the N.E.W.T. in Charms weren't scheduled until Thursday, so she held study sessions in the evenings on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday.

Xander, too, was studying for his exams that week, which were distributed by the tutoring center he attended. He wasn't particularly concerned, because he was at the top of his class. Unlike Hermione, Xander suffered very mild test anxiety.

"You're like your father that way." Hermione commented offhandedly over breakfast one morning, "He never worried very much when it came to exams, but always got one of the top scores."

She had Xander's full attention while she said this, and stood quickly, before he could ask any additional questions. She heard his muted, frustrated sigh behind her as she left the room. Hermione squashed the tinge of guilt she felt for bringing Blaise up in the first place.

By the time Thursday evening rolled around, Hermione and Xander were both heaving sighs of relief. Xander was sprawled across their living room couch, mentally contemplating his performance on his exams. Hermione was careful not to relax too much. After all, she still had to go to the governor's meeting at eight o'clock. She mentally growled in frustration, just thinking about it.

In her five years of teaching, Hermione had attended two governor's meetings per year. The Hogwarts teachers sat on one side of the room, and the governors and their lawyers sat on the other side, with McGonagall in the middle. There were a dozen governors in all, and many of them brought a lawyer with them, ultimately outnumbering the Hogwarts staff.

The staff, for their part, would field endless questions from the governors and their lawyers, concerning everything from exam schedules and text book choice, to teaching philosophies and course coverage. The whole thing, overall, was a complete waste of time, in Hermione's opinion. The meetings always lasted late into the night, and as the hour got later and they spent more time in the stuffy, hot staff room, the more snappish its inhabitants got.

After seeing the time was a quarter past seven, Hermione hurried to get ready. The dress code for the meeting was rather formal, and Hermione flung item after item out of her closet, cursing herself for not being prepared earlier.

Finally deciding on a simple black dress, she slipped into her heels.

"Xander, you need to go to bed at eight thirty, alright?" Hermione called as she put in earrings.

"Yes, Mother." Came the rather bored reply from the other room.

"I mean it, Alexander. If I come home and you're not sound asleep, I'm taking away all your books for a week." She threatened, checking her watch again.

"Mmmmm." was the reply from the couch, as Xander flipped through a book on dragons. Hermione swooped down, kissed him goodbye, and hurried out the door.

Now, if only she could get to the staff lounge in the next ten minutes. On the fourth floor, Hermione took a hidden passageway found behind a statue of Gregory the Smarmy which ended in the same corridor as the staff lounge.

Hurrying through the stone passageway, she inhaled in relief when she saw the doorway leading to the corridor. Then, just as Hermione's hand touched the door to the exit, she heard a voice speaking directly outside the door.

"All right, I guess we should get in there. Merlin, this is such a waste of time. To think, I could be enjoying my evening with Mandy, and instead I'm stuck with a bunch of bloody teachers. Why the hell are we doing this, again?" the voice held a petulant whine in it, and Hermione vaguely recognized it.

A second voice replied, smooth and low. "Well, Draco, you're here because your richer-than-God daddy keeps you on a very short leash. He sent you to deal with this so he wouldn't have to. I'm here because I'm the imbecile who agreed to be your legal representation. Now, let's go. They're getting settled in."

"All right, let's go."

As the voices faded away, Hermione tried not to panic. The first voice had been identified as Draco Malfoy. The second didn't need to be identified, because she would have recognized it anywhere. It was the voice that had crooned in her ear, shouted her name in ecstasy, and murmured to her in her dreams for the last ten years. It was the voice of the one and only Blaise Zabini.

* * *

><p>Chapter Two Author's Note:<p>

I'm not the type of author that holds chapters hostage for reviews, but they really do feed the muse. So leave one, please!

GotBooks93


	3. THREE

**Time's Up by Gotbooks93**

**Summary: **_After successfully hiding the existence of her son for eight years, Hermione is out of luck and time. When the father of her child discovers her secret, their quiet worlds are changed forever. Join Hermione as she takes on the challenges of co-parenting, snake charming, and a crazy little thing called 'love'._

_**Disclaimer: I own many things, but not any recognizable characters, things, or places in the Harry Potter series. Somehow, I doubt that JKR would agree to joint custody…shame, that.**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>CHAPTER THREE<strong>_

Things were not going according to plan. As Blaise Zabini sat in a chair at the Department of Magical Transportation inside the Ministry of Magic, he attempted to remember why he returned to the U.K. in the first place. Within a few minutes, he had compiled a short but effective mental list.

Firstly, He had been offered significant financial compensation to represent several English clients who were looking for half- decent lawyers.

Secondly, Draco was getting married- finally- and Blaise had been appointed the best man.

Thirdly, He missed his house, his mother, and his dogs.

And finally: Celia, Sophia, Mia, Ava, and Madison.

The list made him relax a little more. The first item on the list was hardly due to necessity. The Zabini name still had several vaults, packed with galleons, all over the world. But he was bored with custody battles and writing up wills. He wanted a case he could sink his teeth into, something he had to really think about. And he wasn't finding it in his travels in the rest of Europe. If he couldn't find it in the U.K., at least he was getting paid, and paid well.

The second on his list prompted a small smirk. For years, Draco had claimed he would never, ever marry. Ever. His friends chuckled and shook their heads, knowing that he would one day meet his match, and be married within the year. And they were right. What they were wrong about was the woman in question. They expected a tall, thin blonde, with blue eyes and spoke fluent French. She would have perfect manners and an edge to her that would keep Draco in check. Merlin, where they wrong.

Amanda-call-me-Mandy Jones came out of left field. She was an American witch, for starters, and didn't know a glass of well-aged cognac from a bottle of Carlsberg beer. The first time Draco's friends came over to meet her, she served home- made cookies and glasses of lemonade. Blaise had noticed tiny ladybugs painted onto her toenails, and her southern twang was a source of great amusement among Draco's friends. The girl was all sugar and honey, without a speck of guile. The most amusing part? Draco, the youngest Death Eater in history- who had more than drabbled in the Dark Arts- and was a complete wanker to most of the population, adored Mandy Jones. He wouldn't hear a single word against her, and drew his wand on anyone who tried.

For some time, Blaise suspected the effects of a love potion on his best friend. He had dragged Draco to St. Mungo's for testing.

The tests came back negative. It seemed Mandy Joes was the real deal.

After nine months of dating, Draco had proposed, and Mandy had accepted. Blaise hadn't even been asked if he would serve as best man. He was told to show up in dress robes, and be ready to hand Draco the rings at the appointed time. Although nothing had been said about Draco's bachelor party, Blaise had every intention to rustle up the old gang- Theo Nott, Adrian Prucey, Marcus Flint, Greg Goyle, and a couple of Ravenclaws- to give Draco one last hurrah.

Third on the list was somewhat more complex. He missed his house. He missed the décor he had picked out, with Pansy's help. He missed looking out the windows onto the well- kept grounds, and standing on his bedroom's balcony at night, seeing the lights of the village in the distance. He missed his dogs. Brutus and Duke were his half Mastiff- half Dobermans Pinschers. While they were devoted, loving dogs to Blaise, his mother, and close friends, enemies beware. When aurors came to search the house for 'dark artifacts', Blaise delighted in having the dogs by his side. They wouldn't attack, but any auror with sense knew the massive dogs could take off a limb before they could palm their wands. Besides messing with the aurors, Blaise enjoyed an afternoon out on the grounds, playing fetch. The dogs were a comforting presence in the sometimes depressingly quiet house.

To most people, it wouldn't seem strange to miss one's mother. Blaise, unfortunately, was not 'most people'. Elena Zabini was a strange paradox. She was beautiful, to be sure. However, that beauty came with a price. Famous for having a string of wealthy, dead husbands, she had earned the title 'The Black Widow' among pureblood society. Those who had not met her imagined her as a cunning, soft- spoken woman, and that was often the cause of their downfall. On the outside, Elena was a cheerful, bubbly woman, prone to spoiled behavior. She seemed to be, in a word, a ditz. But beneath that scatterbrained mask was a woman deadlier than the spider that was her title. Blaise made no excuses for his mother; he knew she killed her husbands in cold blood. However, after the fourth husband was found dead, after 'choking on a piece of meat', he developed a distance between himself and his long stream of step- fathers. Blaise's own father was the only living ex-husband, and made a point to speak to Blaise only through occasional letters. He didn't correspond with Elena at all.

So, yes, it was strange that Blaise missed his mother. But he missed her attempts at baking, and her rants in Italian. He missed her blatant but futile match-making efforts, and her terrible choice in artwork. Most of all, he missed seeing the woman behind the mask, the one that read stories to him as a child, and affectionately straightened his tie as a man. Besides her evil Siamese cat, Minga, Blaise was fairly confident he was the only other living thing that Elena actually cared about. This theory was compounded by the fact that she was currently on husband number twelve.

As for Celia, Sophia, Mia, Ava, and Madison, they were both the simplest and most powerful reason for him to return to England. Blaise wasn't under any delusions when it came to himself. He knew he had a reputation as a playboy among a large portion of wizarding society. But he lived by the motto "Love 'em and leave 'em." Women all over the globe had made efforts to catch him and keep him, and Celia, Sophia, Mia, Ava, and Madison were some of the more determined examples of these husband hunters. They had Blaise high- tailing it back to England when things got a little too heavy. However, the difference between him and, say, Draco, was simple. Draco had been well and truly caught. Blaise knew his heart never _could_ be caught, because it already belonged to someone else. Even if he hadn't seen that 'someone else' in more than eight years.

While he hadn't seen her in a little under a decade, Blaise had kept tabs on Hermione Granger. Not in a stalker-ish sort of way, though. He knew she was at Hogwarts teaching… something… and made a concentrated effort to stay out of the _Prophet_. Whenever Blaise saw Pansy Parkinson, he always made a point to ask after Hermione, but Pansy claimed there was little to report.

"You know how she is, Blaise. Same old, same old." Pansy always said.

It made Blaise wonder, sometimes. Hermione was a beautiful woman; any hot- blooded wizard could see that. So why hadn't she gotten married by now? Maybe…

Giving his head a quick shake, Blaise brought himself out of his mental musings and back into reality. He knew what the 'maybe' game would do; he'd end up torturing himself, going in loops of 'what if' scenarios.

'She had been clear that night.' He thought, 'You might not have moved on, but she most likely has. Give it up.'

Blaise turned his attention back to his surroundings. Although he had already made it back onto British soil, he was stuck in the Department of Magical Transportation for a frustrating reason: they had lost his luggage. While the luggage appeared to only be some shrunken- down suitcases, they held the contents of Blaise's life: case files, clothing, a few pieces of furniture, some family heirlooms, and various knick- knacks that he had picked up on his travels.

His ticket stub had **D314** printed on it in big, black letters. Just then, the witch behind the counter shouted a new number. "D24."

Blaise suppressed a groan. It looked like he would be waiting for a while.

~(o)~

Four hours later, Blaise stepped into one of the Ministry floos, and proclaimed a long- awaited destination: "Zabini Manor!"

Moments later, he stepped out of the flames, and into the luxurious receiving room at the manor. Awaiting him was the collection of the manner's house elves, Brutus and Duke, Elena, and Husband Number Twelve, whose name escaped him.

"Blaisey, welcome home!" Elena declared, throwing her arms open in welcome.

Suppressing a smirk, Blaise gently kissed his mother on both cheeks, murmuring "Hello, Mother". In front of Husband Number Twelve, Blaise and Elena would keep things formal. Over the past few husbands, they had learned to keep affection to a minimum in front of her husbands. Otherwise, Blaise became a pawn in the game of marriage.

"Oh, Blaisey, you remember Charles." his mother gestured dismissively to the older, fat man next to her, and the men inclined their heads in greeting. "Wait until you see the driftwood sculptures I've picked out to decorate the foyer. They're simply devine! Oh, you're all dismissed," she said, waving her hands at the five assembled house elves.

"Blaisey I've missed you ever so much! Keeping this place running is such a chore, I'm glad you're back so I can go home. Did I tell you about the pair of muggles somehow made it past the wards along the south boarder? It gave me such a scare! But don't worry, I flipped their memories around a bit and sent them on their way. But they were so adorably simple! I was telling Charles that I want to collect a pair for my own…"

Elena continued to chatter as she pulled Blaise through the house, showing him her 'additions.' To say they were hideous was an understatement. Green drapes with purple embroidery hung in the music room, a garnish, orange tablecloth draped the dining room table, and a bright pink couch now occupied a space in his office. Thankfully, Blaise knew his mother didn't expect him to keep any of it, and intended to set the place to rights as soon as she went home. He knew she purposefully searched for the most hideous things she could find to decorate, and enjoyed making his house ugly. It was a twisted sort of hobby for Elena, and he indulged his mother's whims.

Soon, Elena and Husband Number Twelve departed, reminding Blaise of how much he liked living by himself. Many pureblood males lived in their ancestral home with their parents until they were married, but Blaise's mother liked to live in her husband's house… while he was still alive, that is. Blaise suspected she got a perverse sort of pleasure out of playing 'house' before she killed them.

Once he was settled into his office, Blaise called, "Jeb! Snitch! Carlou! Quin! Lonnie!" Within a moment, five faint _pop_s were heard as the Zabini house elves apparated into the room. Glancing up from a letter on his desk, he took in the assembled elves. He did a double take on one of the females- Quin, he believed.

"Quin, what's wrong with your stomach?" his eyes swept over the strange lump under her pillowcase.

One of the male elves stepped forward. Blaise recognizes this one as Jeb, the oldest elf of the bunch. Jeb had served the Zabini family since Blaise's grandfather was born, and was the head of the manor's elves.

"Quin's mate and she is expecting new elf in life soon, Master." The old elf gestured to Quin and Carlou, another male elf.

Blaise shivered in disgust at the thought of elves having mates, and dismissed the thought from his mind. "So, she's pregnant?" he clarified, looking at the lump under her pillowcase.

"Yes, Master. Quin will bring the new elf to Master right after he is borned, to be named, Master." Jeb intoned seriously.

"Um, yeah. You do that." Blaise said, awkwardly scratching his head. "Anyway, I wanted to make sure nothing too serious has happened since I visited last spring?"

"No, Master. Elves is taking good care of the most honorable house of Zabini. We is keeping everything cleaned, and Lonnie is making Master's favoritest foods. May Snitch unpack for the master?" Jeb asked, gesturing to the youngest elf.

"Sure," he said, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing several shrunken- down suitcases. "Here you go, Snitch."

Of the five elves, Snitch was the only elf younger than Blaise. When Blaise was seven, his mother had called Blaise into her sitting room. One of the female kitchen elves, Lonnie, had birthed a new elf. Elena had told Blaise to think of a name for the elf, and Blaise had peered into the bundle of rags that swathed the elf.

"He's so little!" seven year old Blaise had exclaimed, a mix of fascination and revulsion in his voice. "Sort of like a snitch in Quidditch. That's his name, Snitch!" Ever since, Snitch had a fierce loyalty to his master, surpassing the standard loyalty of most elves to their house.

"Well, you're all dismissed. I want dinner ready by seven, please." With that, Blaise went back to the letter he had been reading. Setting it down, he pulled out a clean sheet of parchment and a newly- sharpened qill.

_Dear Draco, _Blaise wrote,

_The favor you as is no favor at all. I would be happy to accompany you to the Board of Governors meeting on Thursday evening…_

~(o)~

'Don't panic.' Hermione told herself desperately. 'Do. Not. Panic.'

Her breath came in gasps, loud in the stone passageway. She was panicking.

Leaving heavily against the wall, she slid down to the floor, the rough stone scraped her back through her dress, and her legs soon grew chilly as they rested against the ground. Soon her gasps became quiet, as her logical mind caught up with her racing heart. She had just heard the voices of Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini mere feet away from her hiding place. While the first man was an annoyance, he was not the reason for her fear. Blaise Zabini was.

'He's not here for me, or Xander. But they're in the same building together. He's too close, too close. Okay, what to do? Do I go home, take him to Harry's, and go to the meeting late? But he'll be sure to notice me, if I walk in late. Should I just go in now, and hope that he doesn't care enough to really pay attention? That's an option, I suppose, but someone's sure to say something about Xander's birthday, and if Blaise found out it was Xander's eighth, there would be no chance of him not figuring it out. Okay, just go in, sit in the back, and leave before anyone can say anything to me. Easy.' Her thoughts soon calmed, and she took a great, shuddering breath.

Standing up, Hermione smoothed out her dress and adjusted her askew jewelry. Feeling her hair, she felt that it begin to frizz in her distress. Re- casting her smoothing charm, her hair fell in glossy waved down her back; Hermione knew from experience that the affect wouldn't last for more than a few hours. Just as she stepped from behind the tapestry that hid the door, the clock tower chimed eight times, hustling Hermione towards the staff room.

Slipping into the room, she dove for a chair along the back wall. On her left sat Neville Longbottom, who greeted her kindly, whispering "Glad you could make it. The governors are starting to get restless."

Smiling faintly at him, her attention soon turned to the proceedings of the meeting. Soon, one hour turned to two, and two turned into three. One of the lawyers tried to put a cooling charm on the room, only to fail miserably.

"If you would?" called McGonnagall from the front of the room to Hermione.

She cast the charm immediately, before anyone could turn to look for her. The room cooled instantly, and sighs of relief were heard. She was good at her job, after all.

A few minutes before midnight, the governors and their lawyers seemed to run out of questions. McGonnagall stood, preparing to adjourn the meeting. As she cleared her throat to speak, a house elf suddenly _crack_ed into the room.

"Headmistress, I is needing to see the healer Lady and the Mistress of Charms right away! The Mistress of Charms' young Master is very ill, indeed! He is falling off a ladder, and there is being blood everywhere! Come! Come!" the elf's high pitch squeak bounced off the walls of the room, and launched Hermione and Madam Pomfrey into action.

All thoughts of avoiding Blaise Zabini were instantly wiped from her mind as she hurried for the door. Only one thought remained in her head, a stream of 'Please, Merlin, not Xander. Please don't take him from me. Not Xander.'

Following Poppy out, she was already gone when Draco Malfoy looked at the Hogwarts staff and asked, "Who's the 'young Master' supposed to be?"

~(o)~

Bursting through the doors to the Hospital Wing, Hermione stood, frozen, in the doorway. There, lying on a cot, with blood like a crimson halo around his head, was her little boy.

"Well, don't just stand there Hermione, come help me!" Poppy barked from the bed, where she was gathering an assortment of potions, bandages, and her wand.

Jolted into action, Hermione ran toward the bed. She whipped out her wand, ready to cast a complex healing spell. Hermione stopped when Poppy grabbed her arm.

"You can't just heal him. If we close up the wound, his brain will be suffocated by the blood. Head wounds are tricky like that. We have to find the internal cut, heal that, clean the wound, seal the external opening, and make sure he doesn't lose too much blood."

They immediately set to work, with Hermione's wand working as an x-ray so Poppy could see the internal damage. Several parts at the front of Xander's scull pulsed a dull red, and around the edges, little pin pricks of black were starting to form. When Hermione asked what they were, she only got a worried look from her college. It spurred her to work faster, harder.

The dull red was starting to spread across his head, one millimeter at a time. The seconds turned into minutes, and the black dots were starting to multiply. Desperately, Hermione switched the x- ray to her left hand wandlessly, a risky tactic that thankfully worked. So, with Hermione's left hand working the x-ray spell, her wand began to cast the healing spell with Poppy.

As the minutes became a half hour, both witches had sweat dripping from them. The healing spell was complex, but the tide seemed to have turned. Soon, the clear white light indicating a healed wound overwhelmed the black and red, and they cleared up the last splotches of deadly color. Releasing both the x-ray and healing spells, Hermione fought to not slump to the floor. The remaining work was simple, just a quick _episkey _to seal the cut. Opening her son's mouth, she poured in a blood- replenishing potion, followed by a general healing potion.

Poppy _evanesco_'ed the sheets, quickly replacing them with new ones. Hermione prepared to vanish the blood from his face, only to be stopped by Poppy once again.

"Head wounds are sensitive. The muggle way would be better, at this point." She said, handing Hermione a bowl of clean water and a wash cloth.

Dipping the cloth into the water, she gently began to clear the blood form her son's face. The adrenaline draining from her, Hermione was left shattered. She had come so close, too close, to losing the only thing that mattered in her world. Her son looked so pale, so fragile lying on the starched white sheets. His normally tanned face had drained of color, and the only movement one could detect was the slow rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. Hermione continued to mop the drying blood from his face, and found tears had begun to fall into the bowl of water.

Touching her face, she found it wet. Quickly dashing away the tears, she focused on Xander once more. He looked so little, there in that bed. Her son had a way of holding himself that made him seem older, bigger. In reality, he was so small, so vulnerable.

Hermione was cleaning the blood from his hair when she heard several sets of footsteps behind her. Ignoring the sound, she continued her job, delicately cleaning the flesh around the wound. The _episkey _had left behind a nasty, red scar on his forehead. Partially obscured by a long, damp curl, Hermione was reminded of her promise to get his hair cut. It looked like her little Slytherin had wound his way out of that one. Normally she would have been frustrated at his tactics, but at the moment, the trait brought a smile to her face. A smile that was quickly wiped away, as she heard a smooth, angry voice behind her.

"You better have a damn good explanation for this."

* * *

><p>Chapter Three Author's Note:<p>

Leave a review and let me know what you thought!

Gotbooks93


	4. FOUR

**Time's Up by Gotbooks93**

**Summary: **_After successfully hiding the existence of her son for eight years, Hermione is out of luck and time. When the father of her child discovers her secret, their quiet worlds are changed forever. Join Hermione as she takes on the challenges of co-parenting, snake charming, and a crazy little thing called 'love'._

_**Disclaimer: I own many things, but not any recognizable characters, things, or places in the Harry Potter series. Somehow, I doubt that JKR would agree to joint custody…shame, that.**_

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><p><em><strong>CHAPTER FOUR<strong>_

If the day had gone differently, maybe Hermione would have kept her cool a little better. If she hadn't been distributing and grading exams, worrying about her student's O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. scores, cleaning up her classroom, attending tiresome meetings, and saving her son's life, she might not have done what she did. Unfortunately, all of those things _did_ happen that June evening, and the result was both astonishing and unexpected.

In a series of events that was later dubbed "Professor Granger's Mental Break Down" by spectators, Hermione did several things.

She leapt from her chair, spinning to face Blaise Zabini, who stood behind her. She then drew her wand- and in a movement too quick to be stopped by anyone- threw a freezing hex at him. With this accomplished, she cast another spell, which resulted in Blaise floating upside down, as if his feet were tied together by an invisible rope. A rope which happened to be attached to the ceiling of the Hogwarts Hospital Wing. After both immobilizing and shocking her victim, Hermione Granger turned her wand on the rest of the inhabitants of the wing, many of whom flinched at the fearsome look on her face.

Thankfully, she had only pointed her wand in this direction to cast silencing and cloaking charms, blocking anyone from hearing or seeing behind the invisible wall. Inside the wall, she _let loose_.

"You want an explanation, Blaise? You want an explanation? Very well, I am more than happy to give you _an explanation_. See that little boy?" she paused, jabbing a finger at the still- unconscious Xander, "He's my son. And before you ask, yes, it was your sperm that helped create him. But as far as I'm concerned, that's the extent of your claim on him. The last night we were together, a month before the final battle, I got pregnant, although I didn't know it at the time. So while you were off being a bloody coward in Italy, I was suffering the joys of pregnancy, while trying to train for the battle. After that, I dealt with morning sickness, food cravings, aching breasts, and swollen feet _on my own_.

"And don't you try to tell me you would have been there if you had known. I still remember what you said that night, after I told you I wouldn't go to Italy. 'I don't know why I wasted my time with someone who's so blind to the world. Draco was right; I should have dropped you a long time ago. You'll never be anything more than a stupid, impulsive Gryffindor. I wash my hands of you.'" Hermione's voice, tight with anger, dropped in pitch in an attempt to mockingly imitate his.

Her eyes had filled with tears again, and her screams became choked sobs as she continued. "I raised a newborn _on my own_. _I_ was the one that shared a tiny room with a baby, while trying to put myself through school. _I_ was the one that had to baby- proof every surface of that room, and wake up every two hours because he wouldn't go back to sleep. _I _was the one to bring him to St. Mungo's at one in the morning because he had an ear infection, and wouldn't stop screaming.

"_I_ was the one to comfort him when he had nightmares, and _I_ was the one to look after him when he was sick. _I _was the one who had to count every knut that I was paid, so I could pay for him to go to a good tutor. _I _did it all, _by myself_. And through it all, I suffered the scorn of being an unwed mother, being turned down for jobs again and again and _again_." At this, Hermione collapsed into her vacated chair, sobbing.

~(o)~

As Hermione sat down, the spells she cast on Blaise lifted. He was unceremoniously dropped to the floor, landing with a muffled groan. However, the spells keeping the rest of the room deaf and blind remained.

Slowly getting up, Blaise made his way over to Hermione. He reached toward her, only to find his own hands shaking. Examining his emotions, he found them to be a jumbled mess. As a lawyer, he needed to be in control of his emotions at all times. Any haywire feelings could potentially ruin a case. He had to be strong, in control. Like an outside observer.

'That's how I'll look at this.' Thought Blaise, 'Like it's just another case. Okay, gather your facts.'

Blaise began to mentally assemble a list; they always calmed his nerves and set his mind to order.

Hermione was under the impression that he no longer cared for her, due to some careless comments he had made the last time he saw her.

He and Hermione had a child.

Hermione was adamantly against his involvement with the child. Not that that would stop him.

Their child looked undeniably like him, and seemed to be around eight years old, which confirmed Hermione's claim about the date of her conception.

The child in question was now very much awake, and was looking around in confusion.

The last item on the list jogged him from his emotional withdrawal. Large, amber eyes, so similar to his own, had settled on Hermione, who continued to sob in her chair. After a few seconds, something seemed to click within the boy, and he began to struggle under the sheets of the hospital cot. The sheets were pulled tight around him, tucked into the edges of the bed in a way that only mediwitches and house elves seemed to be able to replicate.

After watching the child- _his_ child, he reminded himself; _his son_- struggle underneath the blankets, Blaise walked steadily over to the side of the bed. As he came closer, the child ceased his struggles under the sheets, watching Blaise with large, wary eyes.

"Good evening," Blaise greeted in a low, steady voice, like one would use on a startled animal, "or, should I say good morning? I believe it's after midnight, by now."

Taking a deep breath, the bed's occupant collected himself. "You have the same eyes as me," he said unexpectedly, "and the same hair."

"Yes, I dare say I do," Blaise agreed, "both are common traits to be passed down from father to son."

The boy didn't seem to be terribly shocked at this statement, as if he had seen it coming. He nodded sagely, just as Hermione emitted another heart- broken sob. At this, the boy began to struggle under his sheets once more, but he wasn't looking at Hermione anymore. His eyes glared hatefully at Blaise, seeming to bore into his soul.

"Are you the one that made her cry?" he demanded, "What did you say to make Mother this upset? You'll be sorry! I'll kill you!"

Blaise was surprised at how deep the child's words sliced. In the back of his mind, Blaise faintly acknowledged the boy had inherited his mother's temper. His attention was soon distracted by the boy finally breaking free from his bonds.

Stumbling from the hospital cot, it took him a minute to re- establish his balance. However, he was soon reaching for Hermione's shoulder, shaking it as he spoke. "Mother? Mother, it's okay! Please, Mother, don't cry! Whatever the man said, it's not true! I'm still here, Mother! Mother!" his voice became more desperate with each moment that Hermione didn't respond.

It was the desperation in the boy's voice that spurred Blaise into action. Brushing off the boy's hands from Hermione's shoulders, he plucked her from the chair. Holding her by the top of her arms, he gave her a quick, hard shake. This seemed to jog Hermione from her crying, and she looked up at him with red, swollen eyes.

"Hermione, that is _enough_." Blaise said firmly. "We obviously have a lot to talk about, but right now you need to get a hold of yourself."

She opened her mouth as if to argue, but instantly snapped it shut when she heard the voice of her son.

"Mother? Are you alright now?" he asked tentatively, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

"Oh, Xander," Hermione crooned, shrugging out of Blaise's grasp and engulfing the boy in her arms. "I'm alright now. I'm sorry for getting so worked up, I know I scared you. Shhh, darling, everything is fine now. Shhh."

~(o)~

After being thoroughly scolded by Poppy for 'disturbing patients who needed rest' Hermione was allowed to take Xander home. Blaise hovered close by the entire time, following them silently to their private quarters. Hermione didn't say anything, although she could feel his eyes on her. Xander didn't seem to be aware of anything besides his own two feet as he shuffled along the stone corridors.

As soon as the trio entered the dark rooms, he disappeared into the pitch- black corridor, heading for his bedroom. Hermione would have been concerned, but she knew her son had the uncanny ability to navigate in the dark.

Glancing at the clock on the living room wall, Hermione sighed as she saw the time. It was half past two in the morning, and she wanted to sleep. One glance over her shoulder, however, showed Blaise looking around the room, no hint of fatigue in his stance.

Hermione wandlessly lit candles as she made her way to the kitchen, hearing the quiet steps made by Blaise's shoes behind her.

Hermione gestured vaguely to one of the kitchen chairs. Turning away from him, she ambled over to the sink, filling it with water from the tap. She lit the burner with her wand, and set the kettle on top. Her movements were slow and sloppy, showing her weariness.

Settling into the chair at the head of the table, Blaise folded his hands on the top. Glancing down, he looked at the rough patterns in the wood, a circular burn mark next to his fingers. One corner of the table had a small chunk taken out of the wood, and Blaise idly fingered the jagged edge.

"Accidental magic incident." Hermione said, nodding to the table.

"Xander?" Blaise asked, frowning. "That's rather extreme, for a child his age. He must have been in a fierce temper when it happened."

"No worse than usual," Hermione said, shrugging as she took the whistling kettle off the stove. "His magic is very strong for a child, but that's not really a surprise, if you look at both of us. Normally he's very calm, but when he loses it… well, he _really_ loses it… I remember one time, we were at my parent's house and I told him he couldn't have any cake because he hadn't finished his dinner. He was five, maybe six, and had been in a nasty mood all day. Anyway, he ended up shattering every window in the house. I fixed them all, mind you, but I think it came as a shock to my parents. Before, they just saw him as their grandchild. After… well, I think it reminded them that he was a wizard."

While she spoke, Hermione mindlessly prepared two mugs of tea. She poured liberal amounts of sugar and milk into hers, and left the second mug alone. She slid it toward Blaise, but stopped before it reached his side of the table.

"Er, do you still take your tea black?" Hermione asked awkwardly, shifting her eyes away from Blaise's own.

Blaise chuckled lowly. "Yes, I do. If I'm drinking tea instead of coffee, it might as well be strong."

Hermione gave a slight smile, not even trying resisting the opportunity to tease him. "Still addicted to coffee, then?"

Relaxing into the old tradition, Blaise didn't even have to think about his standard response. "_Cara_, I've been drinking coffee since I was thirteen. I don't plan on stopping any time soon." They both paused at the Italian pet name, before he continued, his usually smooth voice strained. "But enough talk about me. We need to talk about you. And, um, Xander."

"It's short for Alexander." Hermione explained, avoiding his eyes.

"My middle name." Blaise said quietly, emotion welling up inside of him.

"Yes. Well, I thought it was a nice name, even before he was born."

"Continue." He urged, his eyes settling on her.

"He was born on June 8th, at 3 a.m. and weighed 3.4 kilograms. I was in labor for seventeen hours, and the mediwitches wouldn't give me anything for the pain, because he was already overdue…but when he was born…Merlin, he was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen." Her voice choked, Hermione covered her mouth with her hand for a moment. "He was all covered in blood and placenta, and screaming his head off, but I was so happy to see him. He was healthy, and had all ten of his fingers and toes. I couldn't have asked for more. He's grown up to be so… I don't know. He's really quite serious, most of the time…like you," she admitted. "So it's strange that his best friend is that joker, Teddy Lupin- you remember Professor Lupin, and his wife Nymphadora Tonks, right?"

"The clumsy metamorphosis- turned- auror?" Blaise asked, his brows furrowed in thought.

"Yes. They both died in the war, so he lives with the Potters now. Xander keeps him in line, most of the time. Although the other day they both got in trouble at Xander's tutoring center for trying to blow up a toilet…"

Coming back to herself, Hermione glanced up to see Blaise put his head in his hands. "I've missed so much." He whispered. "All the firsts. All the big moments in his life, I've missed them. And I'll never get them back." Then, suddenly he looked up, his eyes blazing. "But I'm not missing any more, Hermione. I don't care what I have to do, but I _will_ be a part of my son's life. You know I'm an attorney, and a damn good one, at that. So we can draw up some rules and agreements out of court. Or I can take you to court, and get full custody of Alexander. It's your choice."

With that, Blaise stood, towering over her frozen form. He turned to go, but hesitated, placing a large hand on Hermione's arm. "Don't force my hand, Hermione. Just work with me, and we'll figure things out."

Hermione listened to his quiet footsteps move through the rooms, and the quiet _click_ of the door.

Forcing back another wave of tears, Hermione stared down sightlessly, trying to find answers in a mug of tea.

* * *

><p>Chapter Four Author's Note:<p>

You might have realized this chapter is shorter than usual (by about a thousand words). However, I've just posted my first 'Time's Up' outtake, to make up for it. Look on my profile for "Time Flies", and let me know what you think!

The outtake gives us a look into Blaise and Hermione's beginnings. You all have to rely on the scraps of the past to figure out how they got together, so I thought it would be nice to throw y'all a bone.

Feel free to hit that "Review" button, too!

Gotbooks93


	5. FIVE

**Time's Up by Gotbooks93**

**Summary: **_After successfully hiding the existence of her son for eight years, Hermione is out of luck and time. When the father of her child discovers her secret, their quiet worlds are changed forever. Join Hermione as she takes on the challenges of co-parenting, snake charming, and a crazy little thing called 'love'._

_**Disclaimer: I own many things, but not any recognizable characters, things, or places in the Harry Potter series. Somehow, I doubt that JKR would agree to joint custody…shame, that.**_

* * *

><p><strong><em>CHAPTER FIVE<em>**

Hermione wandered off to bed sometime after three o'clock in the morning, feeling more tired than she had in a long time. Her head throbbed and her muscles ached. Falling into her bed, she was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

When Hermione woke several hours later, she had the ache that came with staying in one place for a long time. At first, Hermione wasn't sure what had woken her. Then she heard it, a repeated banging on the front door. Hermione, unsure of the time, had just swung her legs over the side of her bed when she heard Xander's quiet footsteps pad down the hall.

Slipping into her robe, Hermione followed the sounds of talking. Entering her living room, she found a sight that she thought she would never see. Standing on the left side of the room, his back to the bookshelf, was Xander. However, that wasn't what shocked her. Standing across from him was Draco Malfoy.

Turning towards her, Malfoy's eyes went wide before he gave his usual smarmy smirk. "Wow, Granger. Not exactly Sleeping Beauty, then?" he said sarcastically, eyeing her untamed hair and the red imprint on her face left by her pillow.

"Hey." They both turned to Xander, who had his arms crossed now. "Watch what you're saying to my mother."

Eyebrows raised, Malfoy turned back to the seven year-

Freezing, Hermione suppressed a scream. Today was Xavier's eighth birthday. This was not good.

She had started off her baby boy's birthday in the hospital wing, followed by the unexpected divulgence of his father's identity, followed by her own emotional breakdown. It was official: she was a horrible mother.

Spinning to look at the living room's clock, Hermione was relieved to find it was only nine in the morning. Xander had most likely slept in after all the excitement that night, and Hermione knew his fondness for a good lie- in.

Maybe it wasn't too late. She turned back around to find Malfoy and Xander looking at her.

"Well, I better go get ready for the day! Since, you know, it's so important and everything." Hermione said hurriedly, forcing a smile.

Spinning on her heel, she bolted back down the hall, leaving the other two behind. She rocketed inside her bathroom, taking the world's shortest shower. Charming her hair dry and tame, she brushed her teeth and threw open the doors to her wardrobe. Glancing past the curtains on the windows, she saw the sky was a clear, bright blue, without a cloud in sight.

Hermione selected a red and white patterned sundress and quickly applied some light makeup. 'This is not for Blaise.' Hermione told herself firmly. 'I just want to look nice for Xander's birthday, because I know the Creevey brothers will be taking pictures. This is _not_ for Blaise.'

Her appearance corrected in fifteen minutes, Hermione hurried back out into the living room. As she passed Xander's door, she could hear him rustling around inside.

She smiled at the various signs on the door, several of which were gifts from Charlie Weasley. He and her son shared a fascination with magical creatures, and Xander always attached himself to Charlie's side when he visited. One sign on the door, read, "_HERE BE DRAGONS_", with smaller type along the bottom: "_Knocking is suggested for those who value their lives_". Magically illustrated dragons snaked in and out of the boarders of the parchment. Another sign, which had the childish drawings of skulls and monsters, read "_Alexander T. Granger, the scariest kid I know. KNOCK FIRST!" _This one had been made by Teddy Lupin, and Xander had proudly pinned the sign up on the door. Apparently, her son took pride in being 'the scariest kid' Teddy knew.

She wondered about Xander, sometimes.

Hurrying to the kitchen, Hermione stopped in the doorway. Her mouth twisted unhappily at the blond occupant.

"Still here then, are you?" she drawled in a rather good imitation of Malfoy's own voice.

"Obviously. Blaise sent me in his stead, but he'll be here quite soon. He says he wants to know what to get the kid for his birthday. Since, you know, he missed out on the last eight years of his life and doesn't even know what kind of things he likes, thanks to you." Malfoy finished hatefully, glaring at Hermione as she bustled around the kitchen.

Pausing at the sink, she faced the window as she asked her question. "Oh. H-he said that, did he?"

"No, he did not." A voice came from the doorway, causing Hermione and Draco to spin around.

"He did, however, ask what to get Alexander for his birthday, as he was not sure of his interests." Said Blaise as he strode into the kitchen.

"Well, perhaps I can show you what I've gotten him, and you can-" Hermione began, only to be cut off.

"Oh. You're back." Said Xander, as he spotted Blaise. He seemed to be suppressing a smile, and his eyes were locked on his father, taking in the expensive- looking suit and shiny shoes.

"Yes, I am," replied Blaise, giving a genuine smile. "I would think that seeing you on your birthday would be rather important, don't you think?"

Xander gave a quick, jerky nod, which told Hermione he was repressing some powerful emotion beneath his mask of calm.

"Well," said Hermione, unnerved by the prolonged eye contact between her son and his father, "before anything else, we have something to do. Xander, any ideas?"

Xander's sudden smile made her want to sigh in relief. Even though he now had a new, shiny parent to explore, he didn't want to abandon their old tradition.

"Mother, we still have to make a birthday breakfast." Xander said factually.

"Exactly, darling." Hermione confirmed, turning towards their magical icebox. Collecting eggs, bacon, sausage, and tomatoes. "Xander, will you grab the ingredients for crumpets?" she said over her shoulder.

When she heard no response, she glanced away from the icebox. Xander was frozen in place, looking inexplicably anxious. Swallowing hard, he turned to Blaise. "You- you'll stay, right? We can make enough for all of us." He said, glancing over to Malfoy.

"I'm not," said Malfoy, standing from the table. "But I'll be around in time for your party at one." With a nod to Blaise and a sneer to Hermione, he left the room. A few seconds later, the sound of the floo flared up before dying down.

"I'd be pleased to stay, provided it's okay with your mother." Responded Blaise, his eyes cutting over to Hermione.

She was greatly tempted to tell him to leave. She wanted this old tradition between herself and Xander to remain as it always had; the two of them eating a full, proper English breakfast at the kitchen table, talking and laughing. At the same time, however, she knew Blaise was using this as a sort of test. Hermione had known him long enough to know how he played his mind- games with the people around him. Last night, he had been clear enough about his desire to be a part of Xander's life, and this would most likely set a precedent in his mind for her behavior.

"Yes, you're welcome to join us." Hermione said after a long silence. "Xander, the flour is under the cabinet."

With this, the tension in the kitchen dissipated, and Xander's mouth split into a smile as he reached under the cabinet. Hermione saw Blaise standing, hands folded behind his back. While his face showed no acute discomfort, she knew he was feeling out of place, and hated this feeling. With a quiet exhale, Hermione made a choice. She knew his words from the night before were true; Blaise held great sway in the Wizengamot, as well as the rest of the Ministry. If he wanted to, he could take Xander from her, no matter how hard she fought. The Ministry was still full of pureblood bureaucrats, who would undoubtedly side with him over Hermione. But maybe they could make this work, and she was willing to do just about anything to keep her little boy with her. As much as Hermione hated the idea of sharing her beloved child with someone else, it was time to act like an adult.

"Blaise, could you possibly help me with these tomatoes?" Hermione said softly, making eye contact with the man. Desperately hoping that he would see that she was trying.

~(o)~

'She's trying.' Blaise thought with relief as he looked over at Hermione.

Shrugging out of his suit jacket and rolling up his shirtsleeves, he kept eye contact with Hermione. His… what was Hermione now? He wondered. 'I could easily say what she used to be. First she was a classmate, a partner. Then a friend, then a lover.' He may have added the words 'soul mate' to the list nine years ago, but things had changed.

'She's… she's a partner, again, I suppose,' he mused internally. 'Although, this time we aren't paired for a school assignment. We're doing something so much more important. We're raising our child.'

His eyes flicked over to his son, and he smiled unconsciously. He stood at the counter, precisely measuring out cups of flour into a bowl. His small eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, and his mouth was twisted. In looks and attitude, Xander often seemed to be a replica of Blaise. However, many of his actions and expressions were obviously picked up from Hermione.

Blaise's eyes returned to the woman in question, who fidgeted under his gaze. Walking over to the counter she leaned against, he gently gathered the tomatoes from her hands. He conjured a knife and cutting board, and began to calmly slice the red fruits.

The quick, steady rhythm of his chopping seemed to spur Hermione back into action, and she quickly cracked a few eggs into the waiting fry pan.

As he chopped, Blaise snuck looks at Hermione. 'She's still so beautiful,' mused Blaise. 'Although she looks different.' While he had seen Hermione only hours before, his thoughts had been clouded by anger, betrayal, and hurt. Finding her bent over their son- who was obviously injured- had nearly driven him to madness. Learning that he had missed her pregnancy, the first steps and words of their child… the feeling sliced at his heart.

He hadn't really _looked_ at Hermione last night.

She had put on a few pounds here and there, although it might not be obvious to someone who wasn't as familiar with her frame as he was. But somehow the weight suited her. When they were teenagers, Blaise always worried that she was too thin. He knew her tendency to skip meals when she was immersed in a project, and did his best to get her to eat when they saw each other.

The weight had settled around her hips and breasts, which were fuller than they used to be. Her hair was in soft curls, and Blaise decided she had found a charm that could finally tame it. Still, a part of him missed the wild, frizzy tangle from their teen years. It had always entranced him, her hair. There were new lines around her eyes and mouth, but Blaise hoped they were caused by years of laughter, rather than stress. But considering what she had screamed at him in the hospital wing... he wasn't so sure.

Feeling the weight of his gaze on her, Hermione glanced in his direction. Giving a faint smile, he held up the chopping board of perfectly sliced tomatoes. Gathering them from his hands, Hermione tossed them into a frying pan. Wordlessly, she motioned to the eggs, and he stepped up next to her, accepting a spatula.

They stood side by side next to the stove, occasionally flipping or stirring the contents of their respective pans. Surprisingly, neither felt the awkward discomfort they expected.

"Mother," came Xander's voice after a few minutes of quiet. "What now?"

Hermione turned off the burner to her side of the stove, and wandered over to Xander. He had easily blended his ingredients together, following the proscribed recipe to perfection. Turning off his own burner, Blaise looked into the mixing bowl.

"Looks perfect," he commented. "Keep this up and you'll fly through potions when you get older." Xander beamed at the praise.

"Now, we need to form these into the right shape." Said Hermione. "Darling, grab one of the cookie sheets from the cabinet, will you?"

Reaching into the bowl, Hermione put a large handful into Blaise's hands. Too late, she realized he still wore his expensive- looking watch.

"May I?" Hermione asked, gesturing to his wrist. Blaise nodded slowly, and Hermione began to remove the offending accessory. Neither was unaffected when Hermione's finger slid between his wrist and the watch, their eyes darting to meet.

'Her touch still affects me.' Thought Blaise dazedly. 'Just like always.'

Hermione quickly broke their visual connection, and hurriedly finished taking the watch off. Setting it on the window ledge, she turned back towards the mixing bowl, only to find Xander's eyes fixed on them, a cookie tray in his hands.

"So," said Xander quietly, turning his attention to Blaise. "How did the two of you meet?"

"School. But you already knew that." Hermione said, her voice gently chiding.

"Oh?" Blaise said, his voice held a strange note. "What else does he know about us- about me?"

Xander, his eyes darting between his tense parents, took a tentative step towards the doorway. "Hold on a minute, okay?" he asked, not waiting for a response before he hurried out of the room.

"What have you told him, Hermione?" Blaise hissed, obviously furious. "I swear to Merlin, if you've warned him against his big, bad Slytherin father-"

"Oh, shut up Blaise." Hermione hissed back, her tone icy. "I've barely told him anything. Nothing that could sway him either direction. Honestly, what kind of a mother do you think I am?"

Before Blaise could answer the rhetorical question, Xander dashed back in, a piece of parchment in hand.

Looking warily at Hermione, Xander began to unfold the paper. There were deep creases in it, showing it had been folded and unfolded over and over.

"I have a list of anything she's ever told me about you." Xander said to his father, his voice uncharacteristically rushed. "I think she might have said other stuff when I was younger, but this is from the last few years, since I could write." Swallowing hard, he glanced at Hermione. Her face was shocked and ashen- looking.

"Mother, please don't be angry. I did- didn't want to forget anything." As he spoke, his voice became choked, and tears began to run down his face. His mother's distress had always upset him in turn, and the look of betrayal on her face was almost too much.

"Hey," said his father, glancing at Hermione. "How about we all put breakfast on hold for a moment?" He gently cupped Hermione's elbow, steering her into the living room. Settling her onto the couch, Blaise held his hand out to Xander. Without hesitation, the boy grasped it, letting his father settle him onto the couch between himself and his mother.

"About this list." Said Blaise, glancing at Hermione out of the corner of his eye. "I'd love to hear it, but I think you should tell your mother how much you love her, first."

"I do, Mother." Xander said hurriedly, swiping at the tears that continued to roll down his cheeks. "I love you more than anything. More than books or dragons or Teddy or anything! I just wanted to know him. That's all. Just know him." His voice cracked on the last word, and Blaise reached over and gave the back of his son's neck a soft squeeze of reassurance.

~(o)~

Turning to her son, Hermione attempted to compose herself. She had never known that Xander was so transfixed with the little details she said about Blaise. In her mind, she had always thought that the two of them were a good team; that Xander was just _fine_ without his father in his life. But apparently, she was wrong. The acute sorrow on her little boy's face was breaking her heart, and she could see the longing to have his father in his life .

She had thought she was doing the right thing by keeping Blaise out of the picture, but how much sorrow could she have saved her child if she had just sent the message that would bring Blaise rushing back to them? Sure, her own feelings had been crushed the night of Xander's conception, the sting of Blaise's harsh words sharp as knives. But in the years since Hermione liked to think she had gotten over it, and let her broken heart be healed. Blaise wasn't a cruel person by nature, and she knew now that he hadn't truly meant what he said. But now things were different.

Before, she had decided to let Blaise in because she was afraid of losing Xander. Now, she would try to let him in for the sake of her little boy. Because when she saw how much Xander had yearned for his father, and refused to get in the way of the two.

"Don't cry little one. " Hermione said, her voice thick with remorse. "I'm not angry. I'm just… I guess I couldn't see that you need both me and your dad in your life. But things are going to be different now, darling. Shhh, little one, don't cry."

Gathering Xander into her arms, Hermione gently rocked the child back and forth. Over his head, Hermione locked eyes with Blaise. He gave a watery smile, quickly dabbing his eyes with a handkerchief he pulled from his pocket. Clearing his throat, Blaise tugged on one of Xander's curls.

"Now," he said, his voice peaceful. "I'd like to see what your silly mother has said about me."

Unfolding the parchment again, Xander began to read off the tidbits Hermione had said over the years. Having learned to write at the early age of five, Xander had collected quite a number of facts. Some of the earlier facts had obviously been crossed out and re- written in a neater hand, and Hermione smiled at her son's perfectionism.

"One:" Xander said, his voice tinted with a hint of nervousness. "My father has hair and eyes like mine. Two: he likes coffee a lot, and doesn't like oranges. Three: Today, Uncle Harry started saying something like "Zab" but Mother cut him off. Father's name might have started with something like "Zab". Four: Father liked to dance. Mother told me today, after she put on some music, and said it was by someone named Frank Sinatra. Five: I think Father liked to read, too…" Xander continued on, and Hermione was shocked by how many things she had let slip about Blaise over the past three years.

Blaise largely kept his responses to Xander's list to chuckles or silence. Twice, he interjected to comment, much to Xander's delight. After fact number sixteen ("I think Father isn't British. Today, Mother said "You're just like your father. He never could appreciate a proper plate of fish and chips. But then, they don't eat them much, where he's from.") Blaise informed Xander of his heritage.

"My mother, Elena, is full blooded Italian. I was raised by her, so I speak Italian fluently. You'll meet her eventually."

"What about your father?" Xander asked.

"He's not Italian." Blaise said, his tone signaling the end of the subject.

'He always did have daddy problems.' Mused Hermione, suppressing a smile.

The other interjection came at fact number twenty- one. ("I'm almost sure Father was in Slytherin house at Hogwarts. I was staying at Teddy's house today, and his Grandma Andromeda said I had some Slytherin characteristics. I told her not to tell Mother, because she was in Gryffindor. Then, Andromeda laughed, and said that my other parent would be proud of me.")

Blaise chuckled. "Yes, I was in Slytherin growing up. But Alexander, I'll be proud of you, no matter what house you're sorted into. Even if it's Gryffindor." He mock- shivered in horror, causing Xander to laugh.

"No," Hermione said, tugging on one of Xander's curls playfully. "He's a Slytherin through and through." She smiled fondly anyway, hoping to ease Xander's mind. Abruptly, the memory of Xander's illusion of the spilled water glass sprang to mind. Not wanting to think about it, Hermione mentally shoved it from her mind. Her little boy was completely normal, and that was that.

Xander got to number thirty-one ("Mother says Father didn't get nervous over exams, either.") before he ran out. Looking up at his father, Xander said "That's it."

"Not a bad start, I suppose. But it's hardly fair. You know all kinds of things about me from your mother, and I don't know very much about you."

"You can ask me things, if you like." Said Xander, suppressing a pleased smile.

"Hmmm. Very well. How about this: I'll ask you something, and you can ask me something in return. My first question is this: what are the top things you would like for your birthday?"

Xander immediately answered. "A copy of '_From Egg to Inferno: a Dragon-Keeper's Guide' _ by C.H. Zozoya, a new set of color quills, with really cool colors, like turquoise, and magenta and lilac. Oh, and a trip to Magical Menagerie to get a pet." Xander shot Hermione a disgruntled look as he said the last one, and Hermione made sure to set her face in an unyielding mask.

"No." she said.

"But Mother-" Xander said, his voice morphing into a whine.

"No. You won't take care of it properly, and we don't have the room for most magical animals, anyway."

Xander looked ready to continue the age- old argument, until Blaise smoothly cut in. "I believe it's your turn for a question, Alexander." He said, immediately gaining the boy's attention.

"Um. Okay. What… what do I call you? Most of my classmates call their fathers 'dad' but I call Mother 'mother' so maybe I could just call you 'father'? Or I could call you 'Blaise' but mother says calling adults by their first names is sometimes disrespectful."

"I think 'father' will do just fine." Blaise cut in, smiling.

Hermione stood, shaking her head bemusedly as she let the room, leaving its other two occupants to their game of questions. Her son, usually so stoic and composed, seemed to have a case of the nerves this morning. Although, who wouldn't during their first 'real' conversation with a long- lost parent?

Moving back into the kitchen, Hermione cast a charm to re- heat the tomatoes, eggs, bacon, and sausage that still sat on the stove. The three of them had spent more than an hour in the living room, leaving the breakfast preparations to cool. She quickly put a batch of crumpets into the oven, and set the table for breakfast- although it was more of a brunch, as the clock was nearing eleven. The food was soon ready and on the table.

"Blaise, Xander! Breakfast!" Hermione called into the other room, feeling the peculiarity of calling them both to the table. But, by the way things were looking, she better get used to it.

* * *

><p>Chapter Five Author's Note:<p>

For those of you who have been keeping up with "Time Flies", the outtakes from "Time's Up", there's a new chapter up. I strongly encourage readers to give "Time Flies" a glance, if they have a chance. Things generally become a lot clearer as a result. Let me know what you think in a review!

Gotbooks93


	6. SIX

**Time's Up by Gotbooks93**

**Summary: **_After successfully hiding the existence of her son for eight years, Hermione is out of luck and time. When the father of her child discovers her secret, their quiet worlds are changed forever. Join Hermione as she takes on the challenges of co-parenting, snake charming, and a crazy little thing called 'love'._

_**Disclaimer: I own many things, but not any recognizable characters, things, or places in the Harry Potter series. Somehow, I doubt that JKR would agree to joint custody…shame, that.**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>CHAPTER SIX<strong>_

The party had gone quite well, over all. Xander currently sat at the head of the staff table, silently categorizing his gifts. Glancing at the small piles around his chair, Hermione strove to make sense of her son's sorting.

In a pile to Xander's left was a collection of toys- gifts that were undeniably made for a wizarding boy Xander's age. However, it was this pile that Xander showed the least interest in. There was a bundle of one- trick wands- courtesy of Lisa Turpin, and a wizarding picture book which depicted the adventures of Merlin, which came from Professor Fenster. Next to this was a set of enchanted Quidditch figurines, given by Professor Benley, which laid atop a neatly folded Weasley- made sweater. A book on Quidditch techniques had come from Ron. Admittedly, all of these presents were good attempts to find something most eight year old boys liked, but apparently their owners were unaware that Xander was not 'most boys' . Hermione was grateful that the people who had given these gifts were no longer present, as she was mildly embarrassed at her son's utter disinterest.

To his right, however, Xander carefully placed several items. A Herbology kit, courtesy of Neville Longbottom, included all the components to grow a Venus Fly Trap. Hermione had shifted uneasily at the morbid interest Xander had given that gift, and decided to set the kit aside for a year or so.

Also included in the pile was a collection of armature books from various staff members, all concerning the subject they taught. Hagrid's gift was a copy of '_From Egg to Inferno: a Dragon-Keeper's Guide'_ which pleased Xander immensely- Hermione was just glad it wasn't another copy of _The Monster Book of Monsters_.

Charlie Weasley had shown up unexpectedly, much to Xander's delight. His gift was a small t-shirt for the boy, with "_Meddle not in the affairs of dragons, for you are crunchy and good with ketchup!_" written on the front. Fred and George had (predictably) given a collection of child- friendly fireworks, and Pansy and Ginny had gotten him a new set of robes, which they declared made him look "dashing". Bill and his family had gotten Xander a dragon tooth on a leather band; much like the one Bill wore around his neck. Naturally, Xander immediately donned the accessory, much to everyone's amusement.

Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas had gotten Xander a pot of hair gel which was quickly confiscated by Hermione, who shot a glare at the men. "He's eight." She reminded, and affectionately stroked her son's soft, curly head. There was no way her baby was putting that crap in his hair. Sulking in the corner with Pansy was Draco Malfoy, who deemed it appropriate to give Hermione's eight year old a sneakoscope.

"What, exactly, is my child going to do with a sneakoscope, Malfoy?" Hermione asked, offended.

"He lives in a school with a bunch of stupid teenagers, Granger," Malfoy drawled, "I'm sure it will find some use."

The pile directly in front of Xander obviously contained his favorite presents. The Creevy brothers had gifted a dozen muggle disposable cameras, to the confusion of the assembled crowd. "You have to start 'muggle' to get a decent talent going." Colin explained. "All the best wizarding photographers did it that way." Xander had already used up one of the cameras, taking shots of the people he loved. A few abstract shots had made it onto the film, and Hermione was pleased to see him taking an interest in something artistic.

From Teddy Lupin and the Potters, Xander had received a personalized wizarding chess set, with one of the kings looking much like Xander, himself. The other king was obviously Teddy, as the hair on the figurine constantly changing. . Teddy's 'court' of pieces was already assigned, with all the Potters and most of the Weasleys taking their roles. The other pieces were face-less, ready to be set into the people of Xander's choice. Hagrid had already been assigned as a rook, and Charlie Weasley was one of the dashing knights. Hermione was assigned as a bishop, with Blaise as the other one. Hermione initially felt uneasy by the extravagant and expensive gift, until Harry pulled the 'Godfather' card. When paired with Teddy's exclamation that Xander was his 'best mate' Hermione relented.

With the last of the party- goers trickling out the door, Hermione turned to her eight year old.

"I think we should be getting home." She said, "Your father is probably waiting for you."

"He's waiting for you, too." Xander said absentmindedly, messing with one of his disposable cameras.

Hermione fought the urge to show any emotion at the statement; Xander had pulled this sort of thing before. He would distractedly say something shocking or surprising, and watch the physical response of his audience. Hermione turned around, packing away some discarded wrapping paper while keeping her face carefully blank.

"Well, yes, I suppose he is waiting for me," Hermione mused, "as I'm the one with the keys to the door, hmm?"

She caught a flash of disappointment on her son's face as he gathered up his presents into a bag. Merlin knew what went through that boy's head.

~(o)~

That evening, Hermione, Blaise, and Xander were snuggled into the couch, the fire blazing and a small stack of presents on the coffee table. Hermione tried not to roll her eyes at the Hallmark picture they created.

"Mine first," Hermione said, lightly tugging on one of Xander's curls. She handed him a small package, which contained a set of color quills and Xander's copy of _The Young Person's Guide to Magical Creature_s_. _Xander meticulously examined the quills, muttering about creating diagrams. He also received several pieces of new clothes, much to his disinterest, and a beautiful new watch, which showed the time in places all around the world. He delighted in telling his parents that it was "One- forty five in India, and three in the afternoon in New York City."

After thanking his mother for her gifts, Xander turned expectantly to his father, eyes shining and brows rose.

"Yes?" Blaise asked, raising a brow in question.

"Father, did you get me anything?" Xander asked, practically vibrating in his seat with excitement.

"Why would I get you something?" Blaise asked, feigning confusion.

"Oh." Xander said, shoulders slumping. "I mean, your being here is present enough, because I'm quite happy you came-"

Laughing, Blaise cut the boy off, mussing Xander's hair affectionately. "Of course I got you something, Alexander." He said, smiling as he reached into the pocket of his coat. "I would hardly be a good father if I neglected your birthday." Withdrawing an envelope, Blaise handed it to Xander and sat back to watch.

Xander tore the envelope open, extracting a stiff, expensive- looking card, and a platinum ring. Xander quickly began to read the words on the card aloud, holding the ring in his left hand.

"_Alexander_," he read, "_Happy birthday. I'm so sorry I've missed the ones of the past, but I hope we can make up for it in the years to come. The en- enclosed ring is something I would have given you on your sixth birthday, as pureblood tradition dic- dict- dictates. However, it's better late than never. It is your family ring, which pureblood boys wear at all times. If you look closely, you'll notice your initials are ins- inscribed on the side. On the inside is our family name, Zabini, as well as the family crest. Trust me; this ring will get you out of more trouble than you know._" Hermione could see the pride in Blaise's eyes as his son read, and beamed when the boy rounded out the more advanced words, only stuttering a little.

"_You'll wear it until you get older and finally meet the girl you wish to marry. The ring also serves as a promise ring, although I can't imagine you're particularly interested in girls at this point._" Xander broke off, declaring, "Um, no, Father, girls are gross and like pink. Why would I like a girl?" Shaking his head in childish frustration, Xander continued reading. "_But my gift comes in two parts. The ring is the first part, and you'll have to ask your mother for the second. You're welcome._

"_Alexander, I know you'll grow into an intelligent and wonderful man someday. I relish the opportunity to witness it. Your father, Blaise Zabini._"

Xander spun around so fast Hermione was surprised he didn't give himself whiplash. "What is it mother? What is it?" Hermione laughed at her son's uncharacteristic exuberance, smoothing her hand over his hair.

"It seems your father has managed to accomplish something I never would have predicted." Hermione said, her lips pursed. "We'll all be making a trip to Magical Menagerie this weekend." Cutting off her son's shout of excitement, Hermione pressed on, her voice stubborn. "_But_ there are rules. Nothing smaller than my hand, no rodents, and nothing taller than Albus."

Xander paused, seemed to think, and grinned. "I can work with that." He said thoughtfully That grin made Hermione bite her lip in worry, but was quickly replaced by a smile as she saw Xander hug Blaise.

"Thank you, Father." Xander said against Blaise's chest, his voice calmed to its usual smooth tenor. "For the ring and the pet. I'll wear the ring every day, but I'm not giving it to any stupid girls."

Holding his son to him, Blaise savored the sweet moment. "You're welcome, Alexander. Happy birthday."

Leaning back, Xander fingered the piece of cardstock. Looking up suddenly, he looked up, brows furrowed. "Father, how did you manage to convince mother to let me have a pet?"

Hermione tried not to flush as she thought back to earlier that day.

~(o)~

At around noon, Xander departed the table, leaving his parents to clean up the mess left behind. The tabletop looked vaguely like the food version of a battle field, with half- eaten sausages, a decimated pan of eggs, and spots of jam all over the table. Hermione almost called her son back to help clear the table but let it go because of the date.

"So, about Alexander's birthday gift," Blaise said from where he was seated across the table. "How about you tell me what you got him, and maybe we can come up with something."

"Er, yes, okay. Ummm, I got him a book on magical creatures. He's really fascinated by them- although I blame Charlie Weasley for that one. Um, and I got him some color quills, like he asked, and a watch. He's constantly asking for the time, so I think he'll be pleased with that. And then some clothes, which he needs because he's growing so fast- I can barely keep up!" Hermione shook her head with a small smile. "And of course he wants a pet, which is not going to happen."

"About that-" Blaise began.

"No, Blaise." Hermione shook her head.

"Oh, come on _cara_, let the boy have a pet." Blaise wheedled, smiling indulgently at her stubborn expression. "I had Brutus and Duke when I was growing up, and it did me a world of good."

"Oh, Merlin, please don't mention Duke and Brute to Xander. He'll become obsessed with having a dog, and we don't have the space."

"Well, then, get him something smaller. An owl, or a cat. I know you love that ugly beast you insist on keeping. Actually, where is Crookshanks?" Blaise glanced around the room, looking for signs of the half- kneazle.

"He died when Xander was two." Hermione sighed wistfully. "I suppose we never got around to getting another cat. God, you should have seen how good Crooks was with Xander. Never minded when he pulled on his tail, and always slept next to Xander's crib."

"Well, there you go. Get another cat, maybe a full- blood kneazle this time. Keeping a pet teaches responsibility."

"But then we'll have to train it, and what if it meows all the time?" Hermione asked.

"Well, then get him something else. A rabbit, maybe. Or a rat." Blaise said, leaning back with a smile.

"No rats." Hermione said quickly, her mind flashing to Peter Pettigrew. The little man, begging forgiveness pathetically when she was fourteen, and standing aside as she was tortured four years later.

"Ah, yes. No rats. I apologize, that was thoughtless of me." Blaise sat up straight, his thoughts wandering to Draco's gory description of Pettigrew's death. "Look, all I'm saying is the boy deserves a pet. I'll pay for its purchase and all the supplies, and we can both go to help him pick out one that's… appropriate."

Looking hard at Blaise, she dropped her head and massaged her temples. "Fine. But he's not allowed to have anything too big. Or too small, I don't want something we can't find if it escapes. And you have to back me up about the rat thing. And if anything goes wrong, you're taking it back to the shop." Hermione let out a long sigh, already regretting her acquiescence.

"Good." Blaise said, trying to keep his victorious smirk from his face.

Standing, Hermione gathered the plates and made her way over to the sink. Stacking them in the bottom, she suppressed the urge to get the work done with magic. Doing things the muggle way helped her keep her mind clear and focused. Turning around, she was startled by Blaise, who stood behind her with a dirty pan in his hands. Sliding around Hermione, he placed the pan in the other side of the sink, and poured in soap. Grabbing a sponge, he set to work. Hermione took a moment to really look at her ex.

He stood in the sunlight that poured in through the kitchen window, and was elbow- deep in soap bubbles. His wide, full mouth and Roman nose complimented his high cheekbones and clean- shaven face. His hair was longer than it used to be, and dark, twisting ringlets of black hair drifted down over his brow. It was cut so that it curled along the back of his neck, almost touching the collar of his white button down shirt. The shirt was without a tie, giving an unobstructed outline of Blaise's muscled chest, which lead down to slim hips. Through the bubbles, Hermione could see chorded muscles in Blaise's forearms, and the large hand that held the scrubbing sponge had long, square ended fingers.

"You know, _cara_, staring is considered rude in most societies." Blaise murmured, his gaze never straying from the pan he continued to scrub.

"I- I wasn't staring!" Hermione insisted, feeling her cheeks warm. "I was just trying to figure out how to tell you- er- you have jam on your face!" It was true; there was a tiny smudge of jam at the corner of his mouth.

"Ah, I see." Blaise said, his lips quirking into a smirk. "Well, are you going to help me clean it up or have me walk around with jam on my face?" He turned and looked down at her, his amber eyes dancing with humor.

Hermione hesitated before reaching up and swiping away the preservative with her thumb. Her thumb brushed the crease of his mouth, and Hermione gasped slightly when Blaise puckered his lips slightly, bestowing a kiss on the finger.

Hermione tried not to focus on his full, firm mouth, and involuntarily thought back to how it felt to kiss those lips, to be held by strong arms as his tongue invaded her mouth. It had been nearly a decade since she felt his body against hers, but the memory was as clear as if it were yesterday.

Without meaning to, Hermione took a step forward, putting her directly in front of her ex. "Blaise…" Hermione murmured, her eyes hooded.

At the sound of his name on her lips, Blaise moved into the remaining inches that separated them, his hands coming up to clasp her to him. His hands were still wet and bubbly from the sink, and one rounded her waist, pulling her flush against him. The other hand gently cradled the back of her neck, her head tipping back slightly.

Slanting his lips over her own, Blaise kissed her firmly, as if he were trying to leave an imprint of his lips on her own. Moving her mouth against his, Hermione tried not to moan. Apparently, her memory wasn't as sharp as she thought, as this was way better than she remembered. His lips worked restlessly against hers, and Blaise angled them sideways so that the countertop pressed against her back, and his arms caged her in.

Feeling the brush of his tongue against the seam of her mouth, Hermione allowed entrance without a thought. Their tongues moved sensually against one another, stroking and re- learning old territory.

Pulling away with a gasp, Hermione sucked in air. Blaise, undeterred, kissed down her neck to her collarbone, where he bit and sucked at the skin. Holding his head to her, Hermione tried to muffle her gasps for air. As she breathed, the lusty fog began to lift from her mind, and rationale was regained.

"Blaise," Hermione said, hating how weak her voice sounded, "Blaise, stop."

To his credit, he did stop, but only reluctantly. His arms continued to hold her, and he leaned his forehead against hers.

"Oh, Blaise, what are we doing?" Hermione asked, her eyes closed. "Just because we have a kid together doesn't mean we're automatically supposed to pick up where we left off. Children do not equal a happy relationship."

"Very true," Blaise rumbled, his voice rough, "However, I happen to know that our child has nothing to do with my wanting to take you, here and now."

Hermione gasped at his bold statement, and abruptly jumped out of his hold as she heard a floorboard down the hall creak. Straightening her dress and smoothing her hair, Hermione turned back to the sink, quickly picking up a discarded dish rag.

Xander wandered in a second later, and stopped in the doorway. His father was looking slightly dazed, staring at his mother.

"I think we might want to head over to the staff room soon." Xander said, "It's nearly one o'clock."

"Yes, you're right darling." Hermione said, turning around. "We'll leave in just a moment."

Nodding, Xander moved back down the corridor towards his room, thinking. Why would his mother have two large, wet hand prints on the back of her dress?

* * *

><p>Chapter Six Author's Note:<p>

Feel free to leave me a review, because I love 'em. Just sayin'

Gotbooks93


	7. SEVEN

**Time's Up by Gotbooks93**

**Summary: **_After successfully hiding the existence of her son for eight years, Hermione is out of luck and time. When the father of her child discovers her secret, their quiet worlds are changed forever. Join Hermione as she takes on the challenges of co-parenting, snake charming, and a crazy little thing called 'love'._

_**Disclaimer: I own many things, but not any recognizable characters, things, or places in the Harry Potter series. Somehow, I doubt that JKR would agree to joint custody…shame, that.**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>CHAPTER SEVEN<strong>_

A week passed after Xander's birthday, then two. The original plan was Blaise, Hermione, and Xander would all travel to Diagon Alley to pick out a pet together. However, as the days of summer slipped away, the schedules of Xander's parents proved to be more hectic than originally anticipated.

Directly after Xander's birthday, Blaise had been hired with a British magical law firm, Flint and Ferguson. Immediately following his hiring, a high- profile case concerning a chaser for the Holyhead Harpies had been dumped on his desk, leaving him swamped.

The chaser, a young woman named Lorena Lewis, had been caught in a passionate embrace with the team's coach, and a lawsuit from one of the other players had quickly followed. Hermione was beginning to adjust to seeing Blaise on the front page of _The Daily Prophet_, often in the corner of a moving photograph, looking dashing but serious in his Armani suits. His rationale for the muggle clothing?

"They may not be cheap, and they may be muggle, but I'll be damned if every one of my coworkers hasn't asked me where I got mine."

Unfortunately, Hermione wasn't the only one to notice Blaise in newsprint. Xander made sure to remind Hermione of his birthday present, especially when he spotted his father's name in the paper. Hermione could see the pride shine in Xander's eyes; this look was often quickly followed by an inquiry of when they would go to Diagon Alley. Hermione would say something about busy schedules, before changing the subject.

However, their late departure to the wizarding shops couldn't be entirely attributed to Blaise's calendar. Hermione had attended several day conferences around Europe, which gathered magic instructors from around the world. On days she wasn't at a conference, Hermione found her time taken up by research, cleaning, and various necessary social obligations. Apparently, Hermione's friends assumed that because she was no longer holding classes this automatically cleared her day, and took advantage accordingly. Bill and Fluer Weasly had already issued an invite to Shell Cottage, and Ginny and Pansy had asked Xander and Hermione to dinner. Xander spent his days either at the Potter's, getting into mischief with Teddy, or infiltrating the Hogwart's Library.

Of course, Xander was hardly deterred by his parent's busy plans. Hermione picked up on an influx of words like 'pet' 'animal' and 'creature' in their discussions, which coincidentally coincided with the appearance of several psychology texts on his bedside table.

Hermione vaguely wondered if Blaise had noticed the same.

On the days that he was free from his job, Blaise often picked up Xander in the morning and spent the day with him. Xander often came home quietly regaling Hermione of days spent at Buckingham Palace, the London Zoo, and the Kew Gardens. Hermione once inquired why Blaise, a pureblood wizard, would bring Xander to undeniably muggle tourist destinations.

"He needs to be well- rounded, Hermione. I was completely ignorant of the muggle world until I met you, and I want Alexander to be better off. After all, knowledge is power." Said Blaise, and Hermione could hardly disagree, although she wished she had thought to do the same in years previous.

In the back of her mind, Hermione knew the two of them would have to sit down and talk about a custody agreement. Personally, Hermione wanted it to be 'Blaise gets Xander for a half hour every other weekend' but knew Xander's father would tear into her if she tried to slight him on his fir share of Xander- time.

Hermione was quickly jerked from her thoughts as she heard Xander's call. "Mother, there's an owl from Father about going to the Alley!"

~(o)~

"Please."

"No."

"Pleeeeeeease?"

"No."

"Please, Mother. Please."

"Xander, we are not bringing a rat into our home. I told you the rule: no rodents. You agreed to that rule, remember?"

"But Mother, look how clever they are. And they wouldn't take up very much food, and they're easy to care for, and I could bring it to Hogwarts with me in a few years."

Crouching down to that they were at the same eye- level, Hermione looked directly at her son and gave a resounding "Xander, you know I don't like rodents."

"Why not?" Xander challenged, his eyebrows furrowed. If he had been any other child, he probably would have stamped his foot and begun to raise his voice. Of course, Alexander Granger was not 'other children' so his voice remained cool and steady, persuasive.

"Because I refuse to have a hairy, disgusting rodent sneaking around my home, getting into things, pretending to-" Hermione cut off before she could make herself look like a fool, remembering that not all rats were creepy little men in disguise. "The answer is no, Xander. Please move on."

Xander's mouth twisted briefly, and Hermione could practically _see_ his brain switching gears. The emotion in his eyes calmed, and he nodded at his mother. Turning on his heel, Xander continued to stroll down the narrow aisles of cages, his hands neatly folded behind his back- a stance that Hermione noticed he had picked up from Blaise. He would stop occasionally, peering closer into a cage, before moving on.

"Now I'm worried." Said Hermione over her shoulder, her eyes remaining on her son.

"As you should be," Came the reply from behind her. "The more you deny him, the harder he is going to look for a pet that will drive you insane. Then, just when you're despairing over whichever terrible beast he has selected, he'll try to offer and grudgingly take the previously rejected rat.

"You will naturally, be so relieved that he changed his mind that you will cave and buy a rat. Such is the Slytherin approach. However, I doubt its effectiveness in this particular situation. Alexander still needs to learn to figure out which tactic to use, depending on the situation."

Turning, Hermione faced Blaise. With his wind- swept curls and a jaw that showed a day or two of growth, he had turned many a head during their trip down the Alley. Paired with a blue shirt, dark wash jeans, and black leather jacket, Hermione had to admit that he looked like he had just stepped out of the latest cover of _Witch Weekly_. Hermione had belatedly noticed her own outfit -a deep blue summer dress and black high heeled sandals- matched his.

"And I suppose you'll be the one to teach him all of these dastardly tactics?" Hermione mused, trying not to frown. All she needed was a finely- honed Slytherin underfoot.

"Of course." Blaise said, his eyes still fixed on Xander. "He has to be able to defend himself when he gets to Hogwarts. I have every intention to prepare him for his housemates. Slytherin may look out for their own when it comes to other houses, but on the inside of the snake pit, it's every wizard for themselves."

Shaking her head in exasperation, Hermione turned back to face the cages, and froze. Xander had come to a stop in the reptilian section, and was paying very close attention to something behind the glass surface of one of the enclosures.

"No. No, no, no, no, no." Hermione said under her breath, shooting a panicky look over her shoulder at Blaise.

He chuckled lowly. "Apparently he has abandoned his original plan in the face of something that actually interests him." He mused, his mouth curving into a smirk.

"Xander!" Hermione called, her voice a tad too cheery as she walked over swiftly. "Darling, why don't we go look over at those adorable little-"

"Mother, look at her. Isn't she beautiful?" Xander cut her off, his tone tinted with awe.

When Hermione came to stand next to her son, she bit back a cry of horror. Behind the glass barrier was a giant, red snake.

Okay, that was a bit of an overstatement.

The thing wasn't _giant_, per se. But it was certainly quite a bit larger than the green snakes that lived in her mother's garden. The thing was coiled around four times, and had a pale cream underbelly. The top of the snake had an orange background with red and black designs, and Hermione guessed the snake would probably be around three feet long when it was uncoiled. No fangs were currently visible, but Hermione knew better than to assume the thing was harmless.

"She's a hybrid." Noted Xander, reading off the information card attached to the snake's enclosure. "A mix of the American Albino Corn Snake and the magical Indian Gufandi snake. Common magical properties include heightened comprehension, invisibility, high tolerance for cold environments and a shortened hibernation period. Most snakes live to be around 30 years old in captivity. The species primarily kills through constriction, and feed primarily on rats, mice, and occasionally small birds. See, Mother? She's perfect! You don't like rats, so she'd keep them out of our rooms! Please, Mother, she meets all the rules you set. Nothing smaller than your hand, taller than Albus, and no rodents."

"Hermione, may I speak to you?" Hermione felt Blaise's hand on her elbow before she could answer, guiding her away from Xander and into a corner of the shop. She felt dazed, picturing a snake slithering around her furniture.

"Hermione, look at me." Blaise tilted her chin so he could see her eyes, and Hermione tried to come out of the shocked trance she had slipped into. "He obviously likes the thing, and from what I can tell it's relatively harmless for humans. I know you don't like snakes, but please remember that this is my first birthday present to my son, and I'd like it to be something to make up for previous years." Hermione tried not to flinch at that, but didn't quite succeed.

"I think we should get him the snake." Blaise continued seriously, and Hermione took a deep breath, and held it. A second later, she let the breath out in a great 'whoosh'.

"Okay." Blaise looked vaguely surprised at her seemingly easy submission, and gave her a hard look. "I don't really mind snakes _that _much, and Xander really seems like he'll take care of this one." Blaise looked at her hard, and Hermione was careful to keep her face a blank mask.

Things would be more difficult if he was suspicious of her easy acquiescence.

"Alright then." Blaise said, and the pair moved back over to Xander and the snake. Blaise gestured to one of the shop's employees, who made their way over, fiddling with a ring of keys.

"Got your eye on that one, eh?" said the young man, gesturing to the red snake.

"Yes. How long has she been here?" asked Xander, his eyes sliding over the scales of the snake.

"A couple of months, maybe." Commented the worker, shrugging. "Magical snakes are funny like that. Sometimes they'll go with a person even if they're not their familiar, but this one seems to be holding out. Several people have been by to look at her, but she's always pretty hostile, so they keep looking."

"How to familiar bonds work?" Xander asked his parents as the employee tried several keys in the lock without success.

"Wizards and witches form a bond with certain magical animals. Crookshanks was your mother's familiar, and I have two familiars, both dogs. Familiars can sometimes sense their person's mood, or if they're in danger, and they can help along your magic, sometimes. If you find your familiar, they'll be very loyal, and can stabilize your magical abilities." Explained Blaise.

The employee finally found the correct key, and slipped on a dragon hide glove before reaching into the cage.

However, the snake dodged past his grasping hand, and slithered past him towards the opening to the cage. It reared its head up at the edge of the cage, and Hermione grabbed the back of Xander's shirt, pulling him back from the snake.

"Mother, she's not going to hurt me." Xander said, but Hermione continued to grip him firmly.

The snake's forked tongue darted out a few times, tasting the air. The employee was seemingly frozen in shock, his arm still extended into the cage. "She's not done that before." He mumbled, his eyes fixed on the snake. "Normally she slides to the back of the cage and hisses at anyone who tries to touch her."

"Mother, I think she's okay. She just wants to get to know me." Said Xander, pulling free of Hermione's grasp. She made a strangled noise in the back of her throat as her son approached the potentially harmful animal. Next to her, Blaise tensed, ready to grab Xander at a moment's notice.

The snake slowly extended itself towards Xander, its tongue darting out regularly. Xander slowly reached his hand toward the snake, and the reptile flicked its tongue out against Xander's wrist. Seemingly satisfied, the snake began to coil around Xander's fingers, then his hand, then his wrist, moving slowly up his arm.

"Is it constricting him?" asked Hermione, worried.

"No, she's just using enough grip to hang on." Said Xander, watching as the snake curved over his shoulder. It came to a stop when her head was draped over Xander's shoulder, next to his neck. The snake's red and orange body was wrapped around Xander's right arm, with the tail gripping just above his wrist.

"So can we get her?" Xander asked, stroking the snake's scaled body.

Blaise and Hermione looked at each other, then at the shop worker. "She's never done this before." He said. "Your son may have found his familiar. I'll sell her to you for fifteen galleons."

"Sold." Said Blaise, much to Xander's delight. "Now, what else do we need to care for it?"

~(o)~

"What about Ava? No? Hmm, what about Saampa? It means 'red' in Hindi. Right, Mother?" Hermione nodded, slightly unnerved as her son spoke to his new pet.

The trio (or quartet, if you counted the snake) was seated in Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. Hermione and Blaise sat on one side of the table, licking Chocolate and Coffee flavored ice cream, respectively. On the other side of the table was Xander, holding a greatly ignored mint chocolate chip cone, which was slowly dripping down Xander's hand due to his inattention.

In a cardboard box next to him was the new snake, coiled around in the temporary carrying case. Xander had originally wanted to walk out of Magical Menagerie with the reptile still coiled around his arm, but Hermione had insisted on the box. "Many people are afraid of snakes, Xander. We don't want to cause a riot in the Alley." Xander had relented, but insisted on carrying his new pet himself.

Ever since they had sat down to eat, Xander had been trying out new names for his snake. While Hermione could see no response from the snake, apparently Xander could, and so name after name was rejected.

"How do you know Hindi?" asked Blaise curiously.

"Uncle- er- Professor Gupta taught me." Said Xander distractedly. "He's from India, and he comes around for visits, sometimes."

Hermione felt Blaise's eyes on her, but looked determinedly at her ice cream instead of meeting his gaze. Over the past few weeks, Hermione had noted Blaise tensing slightly when Xander would mention another adult male in their lives. She assumed that it was a matter of jealousy in concern to Xander. Over the years, their son had collected a number of male favorites among Hermione's friends and acquaintances, and admired them for various reasons. Charlie Weasley was a prime example of this, and Xander could talk about him for hours.

However, Hermione had no interest in diving into the cluster of issues this discussion would entail. She steadily ignored the pointed looks Blaise shot her when Xander mentioned one of these men.

There was a long pause as Xander realized that his ice cream was dissolving into a puddle, and quickly licked up the ensuring mess. "What about Selena?" he asked his pet, and Hermione saw the snake's response this time. Her head rose, and her tongue flicked out. This apparently was a confirmation, as Xander's mouth curved into a grin.

"Mother, Father, meet Selena." Introduced Xander, gesturing proudly at the snake.

"A pleasure to meet you, Selena," said Blaise, nodding solemnly at the cardboard box. "Now, do we need to do anything else either of you need to do while we're in London? I'll need to stop by the office for a moment, myself."

"If we could swing by Flourish and Blotts, I'd like to pick up a book. Also, we'll need to stop by the market while we're out. We're getting low on groceries, and I won't have time to stop and get some this week."

Ten minutes later, the group left the ice cream parlor, making their way through the Diagon Alley crowds. Hermione thought she saw a camera's light bulb flash once, but nothing was there when she turned to look. In the back of her mind, she was worried about the press' response to their little family outing, considering both she and Blaise were well- known in the wizarding world. However, she categorized the worry under a mental file labeled "Don't Worry About It Until There's Something You Can Do."

Hermione nipped into Flourish and Blotts and grabbed the book she wanted, and they made their way further down the alley. There were several streets that branched off the main alley, with small magical businesses and living complexes. Blaise steered them onto one of these streets before long. The road was relatively short, with a small apartment building, a café, a grocery shop, and the building that housed Flint and Ferguson Law Firm.

"Oh, this is perfect." Said Hermione as her eyes settled on the small grocery store. "Blaise, you can do whatever you needed at work, and I can get the shopping done. Two birds, one stone."

"Mother, can I please go with Father?" asked Xander, already edging down the street towards the building.

"Yes, alright. Will I have any trouble getting in?" asked Hermione, raising her brows at Blaise.

"If you'll send your patronus when you're done, we'll meet you in the lobby." Said Blaise, and the group dispersed.

~(o)~

Grocery shopping was taking longer than expected.

As Hermione wandered up and down the aisles of Dee's Grocery Market, she found herself to be deep in thought.

'I need a game plan,' Hermione mused as she tossed a box of pasta into her cart. 'Things are getting out of hand.'

Indeed, Hermione's busy agenda had worn her down over the past few weeks, leaving her little time to gather her thoughts. So many changes had occurred over the past few weeks, and the accompanying feeling of chaos was unwelcome.

Her job as a professor insured her life was hectic during the last few weeks of school, and the various conferences were both necessary and exhausting. Hermione hated being away from Xander so often, and looked forward to the end of the international sessions. Generally, they were scheduled during the first few weeks of break, and tapered off as the summer progressed. It was during this time off that Hermione usually took Xander on a vacation for a week, somewhere warm and interesting. Maybe they could try Hawaii this year; she could use a little relaxation from the sun and surf.

Her role of a mother was one source of both worry and joy. Hermione wouldn't trade her son for the world, but she worried about leaving him alone so much. As a child, Hermione herself had spent a lot of time alone with her books, which later made it harder to interact with her peers. Surely she could save Xander the same pain?

Checking a few apples for bruises, Hermione made an effort to sort out her feelings. Lately she had been coming to the realization that many of them belonged under a mental folder labeled "Blaise."

Her feeling of shock and panic as Blaise first found out about his son, quickly followed by terror as his threat of legal retaliation came to light. On Xander's birthday, she felt as if she had finally gotten a handle on Blaise becoming a part of their lives. However, the resulting snogging session had dug up long- buried emotions in Hermione. Emotions that she had thought were well and truly _gone_. There were few women who could resist the Italian wizard's charms, and she was not one of them. But who could blame her? The feeling of security and safety, mixed with the undeniable excitement of his body next to hers…

But Hermione quickly banished the thought of any physical intimacy from her mind. In the time since Xander's birthday, she had realized her mistake: by allowing Blaise to kiss her, she was blurring lines that should be clear as day. Hermione had never believed that people should marry just because they had a child together. Marriage was sacred in her eyes, reserved for people who could love each other for the rest of their lives.

The two of them were not fit for such a commitment.

So Hermione would be on her guard. She would be friendly, mature, and keep a casual distance from Blaise. They were partners in raising this child, not lovers. And she would do well to remember that. Because she knew, better than anyone, how easy it was to be sucked into the modern- day Casanova that was Blaise Zabini. Maybe with time they could even be platonic friends.

Making her way to the grocery check- out, Hermione was resolved. Things needed to be straightened out, and soon.

~(o)~

As she opened the door to the firm, Hermione mentally noted the modern décor and construction of the law building. Five stories tall, the first floor's walls were primarily glass with stainless steel features. Inside the black tiles reflected Hermione's image back at her. The waiting area was all black leather and polished chrome, with well- manicured bonsai trees sat upon minimalist side tables. Behind the counter was a pale blonde receptionist, her hair cut in a chic bob, wearing a tight black dress. She completed the look with with stiletto heels and pale pink lipstick.

The girl only glanced up for a moment when Hermione entered the building, and promptly turned back to the file on her desk, popping her bright pink gum. Despite her supposed perusal of the file in front of her, Hermione caught the corner of _Witch Weekly_ peeking out from behind the file, and rolled her eyes. Sitting down on one of the couches, Hermione quickly cast the _Expecto Patronum_ spell and sent her otter patronus racing up the stairs to find Blaise. Hermione caught the receptionist's shocked look, as it sped by her- a mix of surprise and grudging admiration. This look quickly turned sour however, and the receptionist shot a glare at Hermione before turning back to her magazine.

Before long, Xander and Blaise entered the lobby, and Hermione stood to greet them. At the same time, the girl behind the counter stood hurriedly, much to Hermione's confusion. However, Blaise looked neither surprised nor pleased, and heaved a quiet sigh.

"Hello, Blaise." The blonde purred, subtly pushing her breasts together as she leaned towards him across the desk.

"For the last time, Cynthia, I expect you to call me Mr. Zabini like everyone else." Said Blaise, gently pushing Xander towards Hermione.

"Oh, but you're not nearly as fussy as all the other old geezers around this place." Cooed Cynthia, batting her lashes. "I mean, we're nearly the same age, and we've known each other for _ages_."

"Have we?" asked Blaise disdainfully. "The only other time I remember meeting you is back in school. If I remember correctly, you spent quite a great deal of time being caught with various Quidditch players in side corridors engaging in…" His eyes cut to Xander, who watched with rapt attention. "extracurricular activities."

Undeterred, the girl casually placed her well- manicured hand atop Blaise's, which rested on the counter of the desk. "I like to think I'm quite good with 'extracurricular activities', Blaise. Maybe you could give me a score, in private? I'd work quite hard for an O."

At this, Blaise jerked his hand away from her, his lips twisting into a mask of disgust. His action unintentionally spurred an unexpected series of events that no one could have predicted.

With a dull interjection of "Whoops." from Xander, Selena slithered from the lid of her carrying case, which was conveniently held open by Xander's own fingers. The snake rapidly slithered up his arm, coming to rest on the counter top of the desk. Her head reared up, hissing.

Cynthia screamed. Snatching up the magazine in front of her, she began to swipe at the snake.

"Hey! Don't hurt her!" yelled Xander, shielding his familiar with his child's arms. Soon as the rolled up magazine hit Xander on the side of the head, making a loud 'thwap'.

'Oh, _hell_ no.' Hermione felt herself go into 'Momma Bear' mode.

Reaching out, Hermione grabbed the magazine from the girl's hands. Giving her two, sharp bats about the head, Hermione used her frostiest voice to address the girl.

"If you _ever_ hit my child again, I will make your life a living hell." She said, glaring.

"But, the bloody snake-" Cynthia stuttered, trying to hide her fear of the woman in front of her.

"I don't give a damn about the bloody snake." Hermione snapped, "I highly suggest you get yourself together, do your work, and stay far, far away from both Mr. Zabini and my son." Hermione tried to ignore the twisting in her gut…it felt entirely too much like jealousy. "Have I made myself clear?"

"Crystal." Cynthia whispered, watching small bolts of electricity weave through Hermione's hair in her anger.

"Good." Hermione gave a sneering smile, and instructed Xander to collect his snake. This was done immediately, and Hermione grabbed the child's free hand before she hauled him out of the building. Hearing Blaise's muffled footsteps behind, Hermione didn't bother to turn around as she told him they were going home, and apparated both she and Xander on the spot.

'So much for 'platonic friends.'' Hermione thought a moment before they disappeared.

~(o)~

Hours later, after Blaise had left and Xander had gone to bed, Hermione roused herself from her position on the couch. After changing into jeans, a jumper, and tennis shoes, Hermione slipped on her dragon-hide gloves that she kept around for certain potions.

Slipping into her son's room without a sound, Hermione cast a _silencio_ on herself as she crept in. Casting her eyes about the room, they fell on the tank that housed Xander's snake.

Her son had spent an hour that evening, crouched over it with Blaise, arranging and re-arranging the various parts of his familiar's habitat. Blaise had cast heating charms on all the rocks, and Hermione could see the sleek form of Selena draped around these rocks, presumably asleep.

Drawing her wand, Hermione cast a _pertificus totalus_ on the slumbering reptile before reaching into the tank. She gingerly lifted the frozen snake into the cloth bag in her other hand, and tied a firm knot in the top. Glancing at her son, Hermione was relieved to see the steady rise and fall of his chest as he slept on. Tiptoeing out of the room, Hermione waited until she was in the living room to call out.

"Kurty." She whispered into the air, and was immediately rewarded with a soft _pop_ as a house elf apparated into the room. "I need to go do something. Could you please watch Xander for an hour or two?"

"Kurty will be pleased to watch the young master." The house elf squeaked, beaming. Then, his face fell, regarding Hermione suspiciously. "But what is the Mistress of Charms doing out so late at night?"

"I just have things to do, okay?" snapped Hermione.

"Very well, Mistress of Charms. Kurty will watch over the young master until your return."

Hermione gave a brisk "thanks" before hurrying out the door. As she made her way to the gates of Hogwarts, she spoke to the bag that still lay clutched in her fist. "All right, Selena. We're going on a little trip."

* * *

><p>Chapter Seven Author's Note:<p>

I muddled through the facts about magical familiars. Hope I didn't make any grievous mistakes. Selena looks like a red American Corn Snake, in case anyone wants to google it.

Review, por favor?

Gotbooks93


	8. EIGHT

**Time's Up by Gotbooks93**

**Summary: **_After successfully hiding the existence of her son for eight years, Hermione is out of luck and time. When the father of her child discovers her secret, their quiet worlds are changed forever. Join Hermione as she takes on the challenges of co-parenting, snake charming, and a crazy little thing called 'love'._

_**Disclaimer: I own many things, but not any recognizable characters, things, or places in the Harry Potter series. Somehow, I doubt that JKR would agree to joint custody…shame, that.**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>CHAPTER EIGHT<strong>_

When Hermione was a child, she quickly learned not to lie to her parents. Not because she had a steadier hold on her moral compass than her peers, but because she was not a good liar, and always got caught. Her parents could always tell when she was lying, and always caught her when she tried to be sneaky about… well, anything.

Although Hermione had become a fairly proficient sneak during her time at Hogwarts, she had apparently become a little rusty in the years since. As she crept through the surrounding bushes, Hermione couldn't help but cringe at the sound of every snapped twig, crushed leaf, and sucking puddle of mud. However, it was none of these noises that eventually alerted the house's inhabitants to her approach, but the well- honed senses of her best friend.

Hermione was surprised to see the light in the kitchen window flip on, despite the late hour. Seeing this, Hermione abandoned any attempt at stealth, and padded up to the back door. Knocking firmly, she heard a rustle behind the door before Harry's voice was heard.

"Who's there?" His voice whispered.

"It's Hermione. Let me in." she whispered back.

"Prove it." Challenged Harry, and Hermione smiled faintly at their old habits. Although the war was long over, many people still clung to the Ministry-approved password method at nighttime.

"The first time you ever saw a boggart, it turned into a dementor. When you were fifteen Cho Chang kissed you, while crying over Cedric Diggory. You told everyone you got an E on your Defense N.E.W.T., even though you got an O, so Ron's feelings wouldn't be hurt. You think Luna's hair smells amazing. You've purposely given Xander the 'grass' flavored Every Flavored Bean several times, just to watch his face scrunch up. You secretly sneak to my parent's house to watch the Rugby World Cup with my dad every year, instead of going to auror training, like you tell Luna."

The door swung open, revealing Harry Potter, still dressed in his auror uniform. "How'd you know about the rugby games?" asked Harry, moving aside to allow her entry.

"Well I wasn't sure until now, but thanks for confirming it." Hermione said as she breezed in, making her way to the kitchen table.

"Zabini must be rubbing off on you, because that was a rather Slytherin tactic." Said Harry off-handedly. "So, not that I'm not pleased to see you, but what exactly are you doing at my house at-" He broke off, glancing at the clock over the stove. "twelve- forty five at night?"

"What are _you_ still doing up at twelve- forty five at night, Mr. Potter?" Hermione asked evasively, not quite ready to confess to her crime.

"_I_ had the five- to- twelve shift at a suspect's house tonight. Now, answer the question." He said, and Hermione shifted uneasily in her seat.

"Hermione? What's wrong?" Harry said, "Oh, Merlin, you haven't done anything stupid, have you?"

"Er, define 'stupid'." Said Hermione with a weak laugh. As silence settled over the kitchen, Hermione watched Harry's face morph into a mask of horror.

"Oh, Merlin, you killed Zabini, didn't you? Oh, Hermione, this is bad. This is really bad. Shit. Shit. Okay, where are we going to hide the body? Maybe-"

"Harry! I did not kill anyone!" Hermione cut her friend off, stopping his rapid pacing.

"Oh. Well. That's good news, isn't it?" said Harry as he dropped into the seat across from her.

"Why would you think I killed Blaise?" asked Hermione, bewildered.

"Well, it's something that Lu and I were talking about the other night…"

"Oh, please, do share."

"Well, she was saying that mothers do crazy things for their kids…and if I ever tried to take Albus or James from her, she would set a pack of divarian hopwinks on me."

"…okay?"

"Divarian hopwinks are, apparently, venomous."

"Ah. I see…So, Luna told you she would kill you if you got between her and the kids?"

"In a roundabout way, yes."

Hermione was quiet for a moment. "You know, I think I admire Luna a little more, now. But I don't think Blaise is going to try and take Xander from me. More, like, just bring him into his family."

"I don't think Xander is the only one Zabini wants in the family, Hermione."

"Don't be dense, Harry. Now, to the reason I'm here." Said Hermione, pulling the bag across the table so that it sat in front of her.

Leaning forward curiously, Harry snapped his body back when Hermione reached in and extracted a snake.

"I know." Said Hermione, heaving a sigh. "Before you ask, it's Xander's new pet. Blame Blaise."

"Ah. And you brought this snake to me at one in the morning…why?"

"Well, we think it's Xander's familiar, because the snake has been so friendly and attached to him. But…Harry, what if it's not really a snake?"

"You're worried about another Pettigrew incident." Harry stated instantly, and Hermione was vaguely surprised that he came to the same conclusion so quickly.

"I won't take the chance, Harry. I know Blaise thinks I'm being paranoid, but I'd rather be wrong and have a harmless snake in my home, than a death eater in disguise, waiting to hurt my family."

"I don't blame you, Hermione. I cast every revealing spell I could find on that damn bird of Luna's when we first got it." His face was serious as he looked at the frozen snake.

"Well, I just want to see if it's an animagus, first."

"Alright. If I remember correctly, the spell needed to force an animagus to change needs two people, yeah?"

"Yes. It's the _Homorphus_ charm." Hermione showed him the correct wand movements, and soon the pair was standing across from each other, with the snake on the table between them.

"One, Two, Three!" The spell hit the snake with a flash of light, sending it vaulting towards the ceiling. It came back to the table with a thud, only to…

Do absolutely nothing. Hermione and Harry breathed a collective sigh of relief as the snake remained in its true, serpentine form.

"Well, there you are Hermione. Looks like you kidnapped your son's familiar for no reason." Harry said with a chuckle.

"Just one more thing?" asked Hermione as she gingerly picked up the snake. "Could you talk to her? I mean, you're the only parseltounge I know. Just to figure out if it's an evil snake, or anything. Oh, and tell her I don't hate her."

Gathering Hermione's abandoned pair of dragon-hide gloves, he slipped them on, taking Selena from her grasp.

"Okay, I'm going to take the freezing charm off her. One, two, three!"

As soon as the charm lifted, Selena began to hiss angrily, struggling against Harry's firm grip.

Harry gave a sharp hissing noise, and the snake jerked to a stop, obviously startled by the reptilian sound coming from a human mouth. Harry continued to make hissing sounds, keeping his eyes on Selena.

The fine hairs on Hermione's arms rose as she watched her friend communicate with the snake. She fought the urge to shiver. Sure, she had seen and heard her friend speak parseltounge before, but now her attention was entirely focused on Harry. And quite frankly, it was a little creepy.

After a moment, Selena hissed back, and the sounds continued. Once or twice, Hermione could have sworn the snake tilted it's head in her direction, and she tried to suppress her worry. What if her actions made her son's familiar hate her?

After a minute or so, Harry broke his gaze from the snake in his grasp, and his hand loosened its hold. Selena wound down his arm and onto the table, wrapping its coils around in loose loops.

"Well, she's not terribly pleased with your petnapping scheme," began Harry, "but I explained you did it for your child. She views Xander as a cross between her child and her nest- mate, so you're forgiven for being protective of him."

"Oh, well that's a relief." Said Hermione, her voice holding a tinge of sarcasm.

"Anyway, she forgives you. But she says next time you try to do something like this, she'll wrap around your throat until you stop moving."

Hermione, torn between amusement and worry, nodded her assent before tentatively extending her hand toward the snake. Selena began to wrap around her hand and arm, coming to a stop when she was at Hermione's shoulder. Taking this as a sign to leave, Hermione rose and moved toward the back door. Just as she was about to turn the knob on the door, she glanced over her shoulder at her best friend.

"Harry?"

"Yes, Hermione?"

"Earlier, when you thought I killed Blaise, you said we were going to hide the body. If I ever _did-_"

"Yes, Hermione, I would have your back. I'm a best friend first, an auror second. But- I mean- you don't really have any plans to go off anyone, right?"

"Oh, Merlin, no! No, I just…thanks, Harry, for having my back through everything."

"Anytime, Hermione."

After giving Harry a one- armed hug, Hermione stepped onto the back stoop before apparating home.

~(0)~

It was half- past two in the morning when Hermione stumbled back into her rooms at Hogwarts, bone tired. She quickly gave Kurty her thanks, and quickly found herself alone with Selena in the living room.

Moving her way to the door to Xander's room, she silently moved towards Selena's tank, gently placing her inside. She gave the snake's head a quick stroke before she replaced the lid of the tank, and backed out of the room.

Making her way through the rest of her living space, Hermione snuffed out candles as she walked towards her bedroom. Using her wand to lower the roaring fire to a quiet smolder, she turned towards the hallway, already imagining the warmth and comfort of her bed.

This thought was brutally interrupted as the fire behind her roared to life in a torrent of green flame. Spinning around, Hermione watched as the head of Elena Zabini appeared amid the flames.

"Hmmm. Still have that dreadful head of hair, I see." The beautiful witch commented from her place at the hearth.

"Lovely to see you too, Elena. How are you? I'm quite well, myself, even though you're floo calling me at _three in the bloody morning_."

"Ah, the time difference always confuses me, darling. My apologies for the early hour."

"Elena, England is only an hour behind Italian time."

"Exactly, it's four o' clock here! That is my usual wake- up time. I mean, really darling, do you think I look this good by _natural_ means? I have an hour- long beauty regimen to complete before my husband wakes up. Can't have the buffoon seeing me as anything other than divine." The Italian woman gave a smirk. "Speaking of beauty, that hair of yours must be tamed. I suppose it's a tad better than it used to be, but-"

"Elena, we haven't talked in over a decade, and the first thing you say to me is that you still hate my hair?" Hermione felt that she should have been more upset, but was too tired to care.

"Well, I could start by asking you where my grandchild is?" the older woman snapped, dropping all pretenses of civility. "I take a look at the early edition of the paper, and what do I see? A picture of a grandchild I never knew existed! Of course, those dreadful reporters have all been trying to get a quote from me, but I know better than to talk to them. They're all so greasy, and pushy. Not a speck of class among them. Of course, I tried to get a hold of Blaisey, but he's not returning my owls."

"Hmm, imagine that." Hermione muttered sarcastically.

"What was that?" Elena asked, her eyes narrowed.

"Nothing, Elena, nothing." Hermione sighed.

"Now, how long has Blaise known about the boy? Surely, he wouldn't have kept such a thing from me for long."

Hermione was tempted to tell Elena that Blaise had known for years, knowing it would enrage the other woman. However, Hermione liked her head attached to the rest of her body, and wasn't sure if this would be the case when Blaise found out about her deception. Instead, she informed Elena that it had only been a few weeks, and the two of them had decided to keep it quiet for as long as possible.

"Well who else knew about this- this- unsuitable mixing of the bloodlines?" asked the other woman.

"I seriously hope you're not referring to _my_ son." Hissed Hermione, her maternal instincts rearing up.

"Well, granted, it's hardly the boy's fault that his father dallied with a witch out of wedlock, and a muggleborn witch at that!"

"Elena, I'm warning you-"

"No doubt you've spoiled the poor boy's mind, poisoning him against all our magical traditions!"

"I'll poison _you_…" Hermione muttered under her breath, her temper coming to a boil. It was rather fortunate that the floo chimed with an incoming call when it did, or Elena Zabini would have been the recipient of a rather nasty hex.

"Elena, I have an incoming call." Hermione snapped, grabbing her wand to switch floo lines.

"Hermione, don't you switch over on me!"

"Too late." Hermione said with a sticky sweet tone, smirking as she flicked her wand.

Her smirk dropped rather quickly when she saw who was on the other line.

"Ah. Hermione, what are you still doing up?" Asked Blaise, surprised.

"Oh, _Blaisey_, you'll never guess who I have on the other floo line." Hermione sneered.

Blaise sighed. "Yes, she's what I called you about- although I had hoped to come wake you up and warn you about it before she could track you down."

"Blaise, I swear to Merlin that if you don't get her to shut her bigoted mouth right now, I cannot and will not be held responsible for my actions."

"I was afraid of this." Said Blaise. "Stand back, I'm coming through."

"No you are not! I want to go to sleep!" Hermione protested, to no avail. Blaise stepped right through the floo, stumbling into Hermione in a rare pique of clumsiness.

With their floo connection technically finished, the call flipped back to Elena's waiting face.

"Oh, so _this_ is what you've switched over on me for!" she exclaimed, watching Blaise and Hermione try to untangle their limbs. "Honestly, you could have at least said goodbye to me before you two start being intimate! Although, that doesn't seem such a good idea, since neither of you seem to be proficient at the contraceptive charm! And I hardly think getting her pregnant again is going to help anything, Blaisey."

"Mother, I assure you, Hermione and I were nowhere near being intimate. Now, why are you bothering Hermione at this hour?" Blaise said, finally detangling his right elbow from Hermione's left calf.

"Perhaps I should be asking you why you were in a young woman's home at this 'late hour' as you put it,_figlio mio_." Said Elena sweetly, before taking a deep breath and exhaling dramatically. "Never mind. I don't want to know. What I do want to know is this: whatever were you thinking, keeping my grandson from me?"

"Oh, Mother, barely anyone knew, it was nothing personal. Now, surely we can discuss this at a more suitable time?"

"And have you ignore all of my owls for a week? I think not. Stand back, I'm coming through now."

Again, Hermione attempted to protest the uninvited intrusion, and was again denied. To her credit, Elena did not stumble into either of the other living room's occupants - although Hermione may have stuck out a foot with high hopes of causing another unfortunate accident.

The discussion that followed was a basic catch- up session of the last month's events. Hermione explained that only Molly Weasley, Harry Potter, and Pansy Parkinson were fully aware of Xander's true parentage, although she suspected several of her friends likely had their own strong suspicions. Plenty of those suspicions would undoubtedly be confirmed with the delivery of the _Prophet_, but Hermione had no intention to officially confirm the story. Blaise assured his mother that Xander would be presented and acknowledged as part of the Zabini time at some future point, much to Hermione's annoyance. Apparently Blaise had his own agenda in regards to Xander.

Any mention of their own budding relationship was non- existent, although Elena slyly regarded the foot- long space between the pair with a speculative gaze.

During the discussion, Hermione couldn't help but notice Elena's change in demeanor. She had met Elena a handful of times before, back when Blaise and Hermione were still in school, and a few times in the years after. Apparently the woman still wasn't terribly fond of Hermione, and continued to hide her sharp intellect and cutting remarks from Blaise.

'Some things never change, I suppose.' Mused Hermione as she watched Elena titter mindlessly at Blaise.

As the clock on the wall chimed four times, Hermione was relieved to see both Zabinis stand. Moving toward the hearth, Elena artfully threw in a hand full of floo powder.

"I'll be by to see my grandson at some point." Elena's perfectly- plucked eyebrows scrunched for a moment. "There's a sentence I never thought I'd say. Oh, well. Ciao, darlings!" With that, Elena disappeared and the flames flipped back to their normal hue.

Turning to Blaise, she noticed his eyes looked as tired as she felt.

"How long has Pansy known about Alexander?" Blaise questioned, to Hermione's surprise.

Hermione paused. "You didn't know she knew?"

"Not until you just told my mother. Any ideas as to why she didn't tell me earlier?" Blaise asked as he ran a tired hand over his face.

"Well, she didn't know for sure until recently. I think she suspected it for several years, since she knew we were together when we were younger. But I only confirmed it a week or so before you found out. She probably kept it to herself because of Ginny." Searching for a definite emotion on Blaise's face, Hermione couldn't help but feel bad for the Slytherin woman.

Blaise paused, and then shrugged. "I know I should be angry right now, but I'm too tired. I'll owl you when I regain consciousness, _cara_. Sleep well." A moment later, Hermione found herself alone in her living room.

Fighting drooping eyelids, Hermione trudged to her bedroom, determined to get some rest.

* * *

><p><em>Translations:<em>

"_figlio mio__" _(Italian)

-Statement used between parent and male offspring; my son

_"Cara"_(Italian)

-Term of endearment; dear, darling

* * *

><p>Chapter Eight Author's Note:<p>

I've also wrapped up an outtake for "Time Flies" in case anyone is interested. It's my favorite so far, and includes a little bit of citrus-y goodness for our favorite couple. So go check it out!

Reviews = Author Love

Gotbooks93


	9. NINE

**Time's Up by Gotbooks93**

**Summary: **_After successfully hiding the existence of her son for eight years, Hermione is out of luck and time. When the father of her child discovers her secret, their quiet worlds are changed forever. Join Hermione as she takes on the challenges of co-parenting, snake charming, and a crazy little thing called 'love'._

_**Disclaimer: I own many things, but not any recognizable characters, things, or places in the Harry Potter series. Somehow, I doubt that JKR would agree to joint custody…shame, that.**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>CHAPTER NINE<strong>_

There was something touching her face.

"Mother. Mother, there's a strange woman in the living room."

Ah, yes. She had a child. Cracking open one sleep- bleary eye, Hermione made out Xander's anxious face, inches from her own. His little hand rested on her cheek, where it had gently patted her into wakefulness.

Hermione meant to say something along the lines of 'Alexander, please elaborate about your statement concerning an unfamiliar woman in the living room?' but it came out as something like "'Ander whacha mean 'bout woman in the livin' room?"

"There's a woman in the living room, just sitting on the couch. I think she's reading a magazine, and she keeps talking to herself in another language. I don't know who she is, though. Maybe she's lost."

If Xander hadn't let them in the front door, like he had for Malfoy, the woman must have gotten in by floo.

Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Hermione mentally ran through a list of who could get floo access to their rooms. Xander knew all the Hogwarts staff, and only a few of their friends could get in without direct permission. It must be a blood relative. It obviously wasn't Blaise, or any of her muggle cousins, which left-

"Elena." She hissed through clenched teeth.

This hostile statement obviously caused Xander some mild alarm, because he took a half- step back from his mother's bed. Hermione then saw that his other hand clutched a cricket bat, one that her father used to play with Xander when they visited. She vaguely registered the end of Selena's tail wrapped around his wrist.

"Xander, why do you have a bat?" Asked Hermione as she sat up, looking around for her dressing gown.

"In case she comes to get us. I'll protect you." said Xander, clutching the bat with two hands.

Smiling softly, Hermione swung her legs over the side of her bed, grabbing her dressing gown. "Perhaps there's hope for Gryffindor, yet, hmm?" She mused, kissing the top of his head. "Now, jump in." She gestured to her bed, amused when Xander scrambled in, tugging the covers up under his nose.

"As valiant as your efforts are, I think I better handle this one." She said, pocketing her wand and turning towards the bedroom door.

"Wait, Mother!" whispered Xander. Heaving the cricket bat out from under the covers, he held it out to her. "If all else fails, hit her in the neck. It's one of the most vulnerable parts of the body."

Looking at his earnest, anxious face, Hermione suppressed a smile. She gently took the bat from her son, although she had no intention to use it.

Slipping out into the hallway, Hermione silently moved toward the living room, spotting the back of Elena's head over the top of the couch. For a moment, Hermione readjusted her hold on the cricket bat, feeling the dense, heavy feel of the wood in her palm.

'Just one good whack probably won't kill her…' Hermione mused.

'No, bad Hermione.' She admonished herself a moment later.

Giving up her stealthy approach, Hermione spoke as she made her way to the couch that was opposite Elena. "You know, people usually await an invitation to enter someone's home, instead of just barging in uninvited and scaring the hell out of the present children."

"I don't know what you mean." Said Elena, flipping a page on her magazine. "I told you last night-"

"This morning." Hermione corrected.

"-that I would be by to see my grandchild." She continued, pretending Hermione hadn't spoken at all.

"And it didn't occur to you that perhaps you should wait until a decent hour?" asked Hermione.

"Oh, I apologize Hermione." Said Elena idly, flipping another page in her magazine. "I didn't realize that eleven o'clock in the morning was no longer considered 'decent'."

Hermione, startled, glanced over at the clock on the wall, only to find that indeed, it was almost noon.

"And if Alexander was startled," continued Elena, "that obviously means you've coddled him too much over the years."

"Coddled him too much? And this, coming from _you_, of all people?" asked Hermione, her voice raising. "The woman who, to this day, attempts to plan her grown son's meals? Who lays out his ties, and-"

"That's enough!" snapped Elena, "Perhaps if I had been stricter with my son, he would have listened to me when I told him not to associate with a muggle trash like yourself!"

"That's it!" Hissed Hermione, whipping her wand out of her robe.

Throwing her magazine aside, Elena did the same. In the back of her mind, Hermione was a little surprised at the rapid, hostile turn their conversation had taken. As the two witches stood, Hermione's eye caught on a small, pale figure in the doorway.

"Xander." Hermione said, without thinking.

Turning on her heel, Elena spun to look behind her. Instantly, her face transformed from a furious mask of rage into a sweet, serene smile.

"Why, you must be Alexander." The woman cooed, bending so she was at eye level with her grandson. "Your mummy and I were just having a chat. Do you know who I am, sweetling?"

Looking unsure, Xander glanced nervously at Hermione. "No, but I- I think you need to leave, now." He said, pointing at the entrance to their rooms.

"Oh, _Il mio piccolo agnello_, I don't think you understand." Elena continued to talk to her son like he was a dog, and Hermione could see his ire rising. "I'm your _nonna_."

"I don't care who you are." Snapped Xander, the apprehension draining from his eyes, only to be replaced by anger.

"Xander- " Admonished Hermione. Inside, she was beginning to worry. Xander had a fairly steady hold on his emotions, but blatant rudeness was often accompanied by a rise in his temper.

"Oh, stay out of this." Growled Elena over her shoulder, before turning back to Xander. "He just needs to get to know me, don't you sweetums?"

"I think I know you enough to say you're not very nice. You're not supposed to come into someone's house, and say nasty things to the people who live there. It's very rude." Said Xander, his eyes narrowing.

"Oh, darling, this is hardly a house, hmm?" scoffed Elena, glancing over her shoulder at Hermione. "I supposed your mother doesn't make much on her salary, but I'll have to take you to see some _real_ houses. Like the manor, or your father's vacation homes. They're quite a bit nicer than _this_ old place."

"I'm not going anywhere with you." Said Xander, a trace of fear creeping into his voice. His eyes filled with tears.

"Xander, darling-" started Hermione, stepping closer, trying to comfort her emotional son.

"I told you, stay out of this, you filthy little mudblood!" shrieked Elena, finally losing her composure.

Directly following the spoken slur, the line of figurines on the bookshelf began to explode, one by one.

"Don't you say that word!" screamed Xander, lashing out. "That's a nasty word! You're nasty too! Go away! I don't want you here!" the boy was openly crying, now, and shoved Elena away from him.

Other objects were now exploding around the room, and the glass in the windows had begun to rattle loudly. The curtains were swaying on their rod, and Hermione could hear the silverware in the kitchen emitted dull thuds as the forks and knives rumbled around in their drawer.

"Alexander," Hermione spoke in a level, stern voice. "Stop this, right now. You're not going anywhere with her, and you know that word doesn't hurt me. It's just a word, darling."

As Hermione talked, the rattling slowed, and the curtains slowed their swaying.

"_Il mio dio_." Murmured Elena, looking around the room.

"Elena, you leave. Right now." Said Hermione grabbing the woman's upper arm. Within a moment, the Italian witch was thrust into the corridor outside, and the door was firmly shut in her face.

Turning back towards the living room, Hermione moved delicately across the room, careful of any bits of ceramic. Gathering her child into her arms, she murmured softly into his hair. "There, there, baby. Everything's alright now. Are you calm now?" feeling his head nod against her chest, Hermione sighed. "Hey, where's Selena?" she asked, feeling no bumps along Xander's arm.

"I made her stay in your room." Said Xander, tiredly. His fits of underage magic usually left him exhausted, and Hermione hoisted her son into her arms, making her way to her bedroom.

"I think today is a good day to stay in, don't you?" she asked, kissing the side of his head. Another tired nod answered her, and she carefully rolled back the covers on the other side of her bed.

After laying Xander down, Hermione immediately saw Selena slither into his pajama top, curling up on his chest. Pulling the blanket up, Hermione ran a hand over his head. "I'm going to clean up a bit, and then we can have a kip, hmm?" Seeing that he was already asleep, Hermione tip- toed out of the room, carefully shutting the door behind her.

Hermione tried to suppress a groan on dismay. The curtains and windows were intact, but several other items in the room weren't so lucky.

One of the cushions on the couch had exploded, dusting the room with feathers. However, instead of gently drifting downward as they should, they stayed suspended in place, filling the air. Small bits of porcelain were scattered on the bookshelf, and a lamp that had overturned now lay across the rug. And she hadn't even seen the kitchen, yet.

Taking out her wand, Hermione began to repair the damage. She was about to make her way to the kitchen when she heard a knock on her front door. For a moment, she considered not answering it. Surely Elena wasn't dumb enough to come back after that fiasco, but it might be Blaise.

'Better get this over with' thought Hermione, opening the door.

But the person behind the door was neither not a Zabini, but a Weasley. Charlie Weasley, to be exact.

"Charlie!" Hermione greeted warmly, opening her arms for a hug. "What are you doing here?"

Pulling back from the hug, Charlie smiled. "I'm in England for a week, and thought I'd stop by."

Pulling him into the room, Hermione beamed. "How lovely! I'm so glad you came. Care for a cup of tea?"

"Love one, thanks." Replied the dragon keeper, making his way into the kitchen. However, he froze in the doorway. "What the hell?" he exclaimed.

Peeking around him, Hermione peered into the room. 'What the hell, indeed.' She mused, her lips thinning in displeasure.

The kitchen was worse than she thought. Several knives, obviously having escaped from the utensil drawer, were embedded in the wall. One of the kitchen chairs was overturned, and the pretty dish towels Molly Weasley had made her had been reduced to strips of fabric. The clock on the wall's hands moved rapidly on their axis, like a spinning top.

"Oh, Charlie, I'm sorry. It's been a rough morning." Hermione apologized, quickly setting the room to rights.

"What happened, exactly?" asked Charlie, turning the chair back over.

"Xander…well, he had an episode today. Someone came by and it was…less than pleasant."

"Dare I ask who this 'someone' is?" inquired Charlie, straddling one of the chairs.

"Blaise's mother." Groaned Hermione, mending the dish towels.

"You know, I almost blacked out when I saw the paper this morning." Said Charlie, his tone turning serious.

"The paper?" asked Hermione spinning around. Spotting that morning's edition of _The Daily Prophet _on the ledge outside the kitchen window, Hermione threw it open and stared at the title.

_GRANGER- ZABINI LOVE CHILD REVEALED TO PUBLIC _was in big, bold letters across the front page. In the picture below the headline was a picture of herself, Xander, and Blaise, strolling along Diagon Alley. Hermione groaned, skimming the article beneath. Most of the text was pure nonsense, although Ginny had given a quote.

_Granger, who is close friends with the Weasley family, included them within her inner circle. "I think Blaise and Hermione would like the public to give them the privacy they deserve. This is a personal matter that doesn't concern anyone but them." Said Ginevera Weasley, a good friend of Granger and a chaser for the Holyhead Harpies. Ironically, the same team is currently in legal turmoil, with one of the members being represented by Zabini himself._

Hermione made a mental note to thank her friend for the attempt to keep their privacy intact. The article went on to paint Blaise as an irresistible scoundrel who had seduced Hermione into his bed. Following their 'love affair' Blaise had left a pregnant Hermione to fend for herself, while he developed his career in law in numerous foreign countries. Hermione had apparently raised their child on some deserted island in the Caribbean, and had only recently decided to reveal him to the public. Reading the senseless drivel, Hermione was torn between amusement and outrage.

"You can imagine all of our surprise when we found out Xander's dad was Zabini, but everyone has actually been pretty good about it. Of course, Mum sent us all an owl when the reporters came around to the Burrow, but I guess Ginny didn't get the message in time."

"So… no one's mad?" asked Hermione cautiously. She hadn't realized she was concerned about her friend's reactions until the question left her mouth.

"Well, everyone is pretty confused, but I think we all know better than to believe anything that's written in that rag. Either way, I suppose the fact that Xander has already gained our everlasting devotion helps." Mused Charlie playfully. "But Zabini better watch his back- there are quite a lot of people to back you up if he doesn't watch it."

Nodding slowly, Hermione finished making the tea and sat down. The duo talked for a while, and Hermione found herself enjoying the redhead's easy company more than usual.

"Don't let Xander find out you came by." Said Hermione after a lull in the conversation. "He'll be furious that he missed you while he was asleep."

"I won't. But that reminds me," said Charlie, sitting up strait. "Bill and Fluer are having a luncheon tomorrow for close friends and family. There'll be food, and the kids can go play by the beach. Bill told me to get you to come."

"We'd be happy to go," said Hermione, smiling. "What time?"

"Any time after ten in the morning. The kids will be excited to hear Xander's coming." Glancing at his watch, he stood. "Speaking of time, I better get going. But I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Definitely." Said Hermione, walking Charlie to the door. After a brief embrace, the Weasley departed, leaving Hermione in the quiet of her home.

Despite the fact that it was almost two thirty in the afternoon, she only wanted to go crawl into her bed and sleep the rest of the day away.

And so she did just that, combing her fingers through her son's too-long hair as she drifted into Morpheus' embrace.

~(o)~

Elena Zabini was, in a word, furious.

As she stormed through the front doors of Flint and Ferguson Law Offices, she mentally fumed over the events of the day. It had started badly enough, with the absolute shock of finding out about an unknown heir in the family. A shock like that wasn't healthy for a woman her age- at 54 years old, she wasn't as young as she looked. Granted, she hadn't hit middle age yet, by wizarding standards. But if she were to die of a shock, who would carry on the Zabini name satisfactorily?

She would be damned if she'd let her uncle's children take over as the head of the family. Blaise, Merlin bless him, wasn't a candidate to begin with. He was too wrapped up in his ridiculous job, and with that horrible Granger woman. To this day, Elena didn't understand the allure of either of his obsessions.

There was plenty of gold in the family vaults, leaving no necessity for actual employment. When Elena had asked her son why he worked for a living instead of going into charity work or an easy family job like many of his friends, he had sighed and said, "Mother, I want to actually be challenged in my life. My job lets me help people, and I'm doing something I love."

Love. A useless emotion, if you asked her.

And then there was that mudblood, Granger. With her wild hair, too- pale features, and fingers, stained with ink, Elena could hardly imagine a less appropriate woman to birth a Zabini heir. Of course, muggle tolerance was very 'in' right now, so she could hardly fault Blaise for his public outing with her. It was fashionable, at least.

But the woman herself made Elena nervous, an emotion that she wasn't particularly fond of. She was whip smart, Elena could give her that. And thankfully, Alexander was a carbon- copy of Blaise, with little resemblance to Granger. But there was something about her that just wouldn't do. Not at all.

In most cases, Elena simply let Blaise do what he liked. But this was more serious than 'most cases'. This was the Zabini heir they were talking about. So maybe she could just give him a firm nudge in the right direction.

As she approached the front desk at Flint and Ferguson, Elena suppressed a smile. The blonde -the skinny little thing think barely looked to be out of Hogwarts- behind the desk was practically slack jawed with amazement as Elena approached. She couldn't blame her. With her tight purple dress, huge diamond ring, and perfectly coiffed hair, Elena Zabini was a curvy goddess in stilettos.

"May- may I help you?" asked the blonde, her expression a mix of awe and terror.

"I need to see Blaise Zabini immediately. Tell me where I can find his office." Said the Italian woman breezily.

"I- I'm afraid Mr. Zabini has a meeting in twenty minutes, and won't be able to see anyone until after it's completed." Said the blonde, straitening her spine in an effort to hold her ground.

"Hmmm, that's a shame. Cynthia Bowers, is it?" Elena glanced down at the generic name plate on the desk. "Bowers, Bowers. Oh, yes, the Bowers family. Big in trade, right?"

At Cynthia's look of dawning horror, Elena continued in a sweet tone. "I suppose your family relies rather heavily on Italian trade markets right now, hmm? It would be a terrible shame if his clients rather suddenly dropped him as a supplier, and chose to go with someone else."

Watching the other girl purse her lips and frown, Elena smirked. "Now, tell me again- where did you say Mr. Zabini's office is?"

"Room Three- oh- seven, ma'am, on the third floor."

"Excellent." Replied Elena, giving a toothy smile as she moved towards the shiny elevator doors to the left.

"Wait! How should I tell his secretary is here?" called Cynthia from behind her.

"His mother." Answered Elena, giving a small, throaty laugh. Sometimes getting her way was just _too easy_.

~(o)~

"So you see, Blaisey, I just think it would be better to consult a specialist. I mean, Hermione is a lovely girl, but she wasn't raised in a magical household like you were. And I think she'd appreciate the help."

"I don't know, Mother, Hermione seems to think Alexander is pretty normal for a child his age." Replied Blaise, looking doubtful. Admittedly, his mother's recounting of the day's events had him concerned.

"Darling, if you had seen that room after his little fit, you wouldn't have said that. Granted, no mother wants to be told she's doing a bad job, but it's really in everyone's best interest."

Seeing her son's doubtful look, she continued. "I have a friend at the Ministry that specializes in cases like this. They'll evaluate the situation, and take whatever means they deem necessary. Really, Blaise, think of what's best for Alexander."

Sensing that victory was close, Elena produced a scrap of parchment and a quill. "I'll just leave my friend's name for you to use. Send me a floo if you have any trouble."

Standing from the chair that faced Blaise's desk, she collected her hand bag and gave a toothy smile. "Well, must dash. I have a lunch date with Debora Parkinson; we're planning the Save the Pygmy Puffs benefit dinner. Isn't it exciting?" giving a quick, happy clap of her hands, she swept out of his office, calling a "Ciao, darling!" over her shoulder as she left.

Blaise leaned back in his chair, idly fingering the scrap of parchment on his desk. To the right of his desk was the rubbish bin. He picked up the parchment, letting his hand drift decidedly over to the edge of his desk, thinking.

"Mr. Zabini, your one o'clock appointment is here." The voice of his secretary suddenly came through the magical intercom on his desk, and Blaise sighed.

"Yes, I'll be out in a moment. Thank you." He replied.

After a moment, he curled his hand around the parchment, shoving it into his pocket as he stood.

'Well, I suppose it couldn't hurt.' Blaise thought as he left his office, letting the door click shut behind him.

* * *

><p><em>Translations:<em>

"_Il mio piccolo agnello__" _(Italian)

-Term of endearment or pet name; my little lamb

"_Nonna" _(Italian)

-Grandmother

"_Il mio dio" _(Italian)

-An exclamation of surprise or disbelief, or address to a supernatural being; My god

_"Cara"_(Italian)

-Term of endearment; dear, darling

* * *

><p>Chapter Nine Author's Note:<p>

I got an unsigned review from Noobee last chapter that I wanted to reply to:

I can't agree enough with your statement of "white washing" our hero. Honestly, I just write him the way I do because the first Blaise fic I read, he wasn't black, and that's the way I picture him as a result. But for any author who writes him as a dark- skinned delight, I'm all for it! However, JKR didn't give us a description of him until book 6, so he was a bit of a mystery for earlier stories (which makes him really appealing as a character for fanfiction writers) and now he's been characterized as such.

As always, reviews are welcome!

Gotbooks93


	10. TEN

**Time's Up by Gotbooks93**

**Summary: **_After successfully hiding the existence of her son for eight years, Hermione is out of luck and time. When the father of her child discovers her secret, their quiet worlds are changed forever. Join Hermione as she takes on the challenges of co-parenting, snake charming, and a crazy little thing called 'love'._

_**Disclaimer: I own many things, but not any recognizable characters, things, or places in the Harry Potter series. Somehow, I doubt that JKR would agree to joint custody…shame, that.**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>CHAPTER TEN<strong>_

Perched on coastline of Wales, Shell Cottage overlooked the vast stretch of the Celtic Sea. With whitewashed walls and blue- painted shutters, it made a picturesque image for all who looked upon it. It was a clear, bright day, perfect for a Weasley family gathering.

When Hermione and Xander had arrived at Shell Cottage the next morning, the pair waded through the crowd of friends and acquaintances, noting that the assembled group was almost identical to the one found at James Potter's birthday several weeks prior. One new face, however, belonged to the sweet, bubbly American witch sitting on the corner.

Invited along by Pansy and Ginny, Amanda Jones was a wonderful source of amusement to the assembled children. While the kids waited their allotted half hour after eating to go swim, they bombarded 'Mandy' with words for her to say. The girl would obediently drawl out the phrases, much to the hilarity of the assembled youngsters. When Molly Weasley announced that it was acceptable to go swim, they quickly dismissed their prior source of entertainment, rushing down the sea-grass lined paths that lead to the water.

Xander, his arm caught by Hermione just before he made it out the door, was promptly escorted back to a kitchen chair. Although he and Teddy plead their case with a finesse that would have made Xander's father proud, Hermione was resolute. Hermione had other plans for her son.

"Go on, Teddy. There's no need for both of us to suffer." Sighed Xander dramatically.

With his best mate's blessing, Teddy promptly raced from the room, his hair going bright green in his excitement.

"Now, Miss Jones. Didn't you say you were a hairdresser?" asked Hermione.

~(o)~

The hardwood floor was covered in dark, curly locks. Every few seconds, the quiet _snip_ of the scissors would sound, and another lock joined the growing pile on the floor.

Xander, his mouth twisted into a dark scowl, sat stock- still on the kitchen chair, glaring at the wall in front of him. Through the open window, Hermione could hear the crash of the waves on the shoreline, accompanied by occasional shout of laughter. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Xander would rather be outside in the salty sea air, than sitting in the kitchen getting his long-overdue haircut.

When Xander turned his glower at his mother, Hermione hardly noticed. The woman behind the scissors had her attention instead. With strait, dark brown hair, blue- green eyes, and a lovely, peachy skin tone, Amanda Jones hardly fit the mold of her predecessors.

"Oh, don't whine Alexander." Mandy said taking a comb from her mouth. "Your momma just wants you to look as handsome as your Daddy."

Mandy's mention of Blaise made Hermione's lips twist into a scowl, one not unlike the one her son wore. She knew this casual mention of Blaise would trigger an unwanted discussion, and she wasn't disappointed.

"Speaking of Zabini, what's going on?" asked Ginny, her voice too casual.

"Well, I'm trusting you all know what the _Prophet_ reported is complete rubbish." Said Hermione, turning herself to face the assembled adults in the room. While she would rather avoid the subject as a whole, this couldn't be all bad.

'The more people who hear the truth first hand from me, the more there will be to squash the rumors.' She thought. And so, the questions began.

"So, was it a one-time thing?" asked George, smirking.

"Of course now! Blaise and I were together from the end of our sixth year, 'till a few weeks before the war ended." Hermione tried not to be too insulted by the implied character trait.

"Why keep it a secret?" asked another voice.

"How do you think people would have taken the news, especially considering the political and social climate at the time? A muggle- born girl and a boy whose name could be traced back for a million generations? We would have been the poster couple for 'terrible things that happen when bloodlines mix.'"

"All right, fair enough, but surely you could have come out about it when the war ended?"

"It's true, people probably would have taken it better after Voldemort fell, but I wasn't afraid of public backlash, at that point. I was terrified of word getting back to Blaise, which it would have, and having to face him." Hermione was seated at the head of the table, her friends and adopted family clustered around the edges.

She felt as if she was fielding a press conference, but overall, it was going quite well. The group peppered her with questions, and no one had suggested a man- hunt for Blaise…yet. "Why were you worried about Zabini finding out about Xander?" asked Bill.

Of the whole group, Hermione guessed that Bill cared the least about the whole 'incident', as Molly was calling it. He didn't know Blaise at all, and he knew what it felt like to have one's loved ones to be against a relationship. It had taken quite a while for his family to warm up to Fleur, after all.

"At the time, I was afraid he would take Xander away from me, or be angry that he had a mixed- blood child. Honestly, it seems a bit silly now. I mean, Blaise is so good with Xander, and he's been great about working around our schedules."

"Yeah, well, Zabini's still a git." Grumbled Ron, although Hermione suspected it was out of obligation rather than true malice.

"Speaking of schedule, have you two worked out a custody agreement, yet?" asked Ginny, elbowing her brother in his side.

"Not really, no. I suppose it will be a lot more necessary when school starts back up. Right now, it seems like neither of us have a sturdy enough schedule to build it on. I mean…" Hermione began to say more, and then stopped herself as she glanced at the faces around the table. Maybe it would be better to express her worries when cooler heads were present.

Apparently her thoughts showed upon her face. Charlie stood up and clapped his hands together. "Well, I suppose that's enough of a hint, eh? Last one in the water is a rotten egg!"

Hermione suppressed a grin as, in a flurry of activity, the adults seated around the table raced towards the sea. The similarities they had with their children had Hermione smiling. Harry, Fleur, Percy, and his wife Audre, remained with Hermione at the table.

"What's got you bothered about the custody schedule?" asked Harry, lowering his voice.

"I don't know…it's probably just the newness of it all. I mean, no mother wants to share her child, right?"

"Of course." Said Molly, as she came in from outside. "Now, I want you to bring this Zabini boy by to see me, all right? He'll know better than to get any silly ideas about the custody schedule once he knows who's backing you."

"Trust me Molly, I'm pretty sure he knows better than to go up against the Weasleys." Hermione smiled. "But I'll try to bring him to the next family gathering, anyway."

Satisfied with her response, the remaining people dispersed. Unexpectedly, it was Percy Weasley that slid into the bench next to her.

Even after having re- assumed his place within the family, Percy had continued to climb the administrative ladder at the Ministry of Magic. Hermione knew his attention to detail and unfailing work ethic had earned his position as Head Secretary of the Wizengamot, a job he was clearly proud of.

After his marriage to his wife Audrey, and the subsequent birth of their daughter Lucy, the formerly high- strung man had begun to relax a little. He spent more time with his family and less time preaching about the lawful thickness of cauldrons, much to everyone's relief. Hermione personally though his wife was to be credited for this pleasant change. The two women got along quite well, and always made a point to sit down and chat when they saw each other.

"Hermione, might I have a quick word?" the red headed man asked lowly, his blue eyes hesitant behind his horn rimmed glasses.

"Oh, of course." Said Hermione, puzzled. The duo slipped into an alcove off the cottage's staircase, and Percy quickly cast a few notice- me- not spells.

"I hope you don't mind my interference, but I wanted to give you my support in your recent…er, personal troubles." Said Percy shifting his weight uncomfortably.

"Oh, um, thank you Percy. That's very kind of you." Said Hermione, confused. The pair had never been terribly close, although she did appreciate the support.

"Just in case, of course, but I wanted to give you this." Said Percy, handing Hermione a small, white card.

The business card had 'PERCY WEASLEY, HEAD SECRETARY OF THE UNITED KINGDOM'S WIZENGAMOT' stamped across the front in thin, black letters.

"It's my personal card. Just tap your wand against it twice, and my secretary will immediately notify me that you urgently need an appointment. As you know, I'm not exactly in the same field as Zabini, but I do have some sway when it comes to the law. Just in case things get…unpleasant… between you two, you have someone looking out for you in the Wizengamot."

"Well thank you, Percy." Said Hermione, touched.

"It's really the least I could do." The man said, nodding. "You've been so kind to Audrey for all these years, and we both appreciate it greatly. I don't know what we would have done with Lucy if it wasn't for your advice."

"Well, I'm glad I could help." Hermione tucked the card away into her pocket. "Shall we get back to it, then?"

As the pair re- entered the kitchen, Hermione noted that Harry had joined the others outside. She watched Mandy take one last snip at Xander's hair before she removed the sheet that was draped about his shoulders.

"There you go, Mister Granger." Said Mandy, brushing off stray hairs from his shoulders. "Better, I think."

"_Much_ better, I would say." Agreed Hermione gently turning his face left and right. "I'm happy to see your eyes again."

Still disgruntled, Xander pouted. "Well, I suppose _one_ of us can be happy about that." He muttered. "Mother, can I go swim now?" he asked, already inching towards the door.

"Go ahead. Be careful." Said Hermione, taking a seat by the window.

As her son disappeared down on of the well- worn paths, Hermione turned her attention to her surroundings. It seemed Fleur had trapped her sister- in- law in conversation.

"So I am theenking, zeese dress is 'ideous! But I do not say zeese to ze girl. I say about zee ozer one 'Ah, but what about zees in blue? And ze girl, who is _tres jolie_, very pretty, but not very smart, is saying she will check in the back, but she does not know I have bought the very last one on…"

Fleur suddenly trailed off, watching something outside the window. Then: "Dominique! _Non, jeune fille_! _Non_! It is bad to bite 'ozer cheeldren. You come up here, _maintenant_!" a pause, accompanied by the faint, plaintive response of a child. "_Oui_, you come right now. _Si tu ne peux pas jouer gentiment, tu vas rester avec moi à l'intérieur_."

Although Hermione's French was, admittedly, a little rusty, she surmised that this mean something like "If you can't play nicely, you will come inside."

As the little blonde girl sulked into the house, Hermione saw her opportunity to save Audrey. As Fleur softly scolded her daughter in French, Hermione waved the other woman over to sit beside her on the window seat. The pair began to converse easily, and Hermione informed her of Percy's act of kindness. His wife beamed in pride, and assured Hermione their home was open to her at any time. Their talk soon turned to a pair of shoes Audrey had recently bought in Diagon Alley, and the pair debated the pros and cons of different magical clothing stores in London.

"I hope you don't mind me butting in," came an American voice from Hermione's right, "But do you mind giving me some pointers about the dress shops around here?"

Hermione and Audrey turned to Mandy, who hesitantly sat down in a nearby chair. The two British witches exchanged a glance. Hermione knew they were both thinking: Mandy's tie to the Malfoys, a family in another social group from their own. However, if her early Hogwarts years had taught her anything, it was that being friendless in a new place was very lonely, indeed.

"Of course." Said Hermione, giving a warm smile. "I suppose you aren't very familiar with Diagon Alley, since you're not from here?"

"No, not really." Replied Mandy, pleased at the subtle invitation. "I'm getting my wedding dress from somewhere back home, but I still need to pick out bridesmaid dresses, and I don't know where to start looking."

As the three women conversed about various shops in England, Hermione couldn't help but like Mandy. The girl was a little bubblier than herself, but her mannerisms were charming and she gave off a strong wish to be included. Hermione suspected her months in England had been lonely ones. One thing that surprised her, though, was Mandy's simple, sweet love for Draco Malfoy.

Hermione suspected Mandy knew of Draco's sordid past, but it was the small things that obviously endeared the blonde to her. She spoke of Draco's jokes (witty, if a bit mean spirited sometimes), his mother (unfailingly polite, but a little frosty) and the way Draco had proposed (on a broomstick ride amid a field of wild flowers). In return, Audrey regaled her own engagement story, a quirky effort by Percy that had fit the couple to a 'T'.

Hermione tried to brush away the ball of jealousy that dwelled in her chest, banishing the image of Blaise's own pre- proposal from her mind. That was a long time ago, and best to be left in the past.

Turning away from the other women, Hermione quickly spotted Xander through the window. The boy was treading water among the waves, his curly hair plastered to his head by the waves. Teddy Lupin's bright blue head bobbed a few feet away, with Charlie watching over the pair on a nearby rock. Charlie continually threw a bright red ball into the water for the youngsters to try and retrieve, must to the boy's delight.

In the shallows, closer to the shore, various redheaded, brunette, and blonde children chased each other through the water, squealing in delight. Their parents were gathered along the sand, on beach chairs and a beat- up picnic table. If nothing else, the war had taught them to cherish time with the ones they loved whenever they could.

~(o)~

Several days later, Hermione found herself in her classroom. She had just gotten back from the last teaching conference of the summer, and was relieved to put them behind her. Yes, they did help a lot, and it was nice to learn new education techniques.

But part of every conference was devoted to keeping professors updated on curriculum requirements, and Hermione had some apprehension about the coming year. If NEWT and OWL test scores weren't up to par, there was the possibility of government intervention in the classroom.

It was this threat of Ministry regulation that had Hermione back in her classroom, even though it was not quite half way through summer vacation. As she jotted down notes for next year's lesson plans, she flicked her wand at the tall, clear windows to her right. They flipped open, fresh air clearing away the previously musty smell of the room.

When the school's clock tower tolled four times, marking the hour, Hermione rose from her desk. Stretching languidly, she pondered what she and Xander would have for dinner. They could have Shepard's pie, or maybe a nice, light quiche.

Turning her head at the sound of flapping wings, she spotted the Potter's owl, Hermes. Gracefully settling down on the ledge outside the window, he stuck out his leg for her to take the attached parchment.

Unrolling the scroll, Hermione stroked his feathers as she read.

_Mother,_

_Could I please stay at the Potters tonite? I am having lots of fun and Aunt Luna said it was O.K. so please send me a reply soon. I love you very much. _

_Your son,_

_Alexander Granger_

Hermione have a huff of amusement. His Slytherin tendencies were flaring up again, what with the extravegant '_I love you very much_'.

'I could use a night to myself,' she mused. 'A hot cup of tea, a good book, maybe listen to the wireless for a bit.'

Plucking a quill from her desk, Hermione dashed out a reply.

_Xander,_

_Yes, you have my permission to stay with the Potters tonight. Please be on your best behavior and clean up after yourself. Also, don't forget that Selena needs to eat; I dare say she'll be able to find something for herself if you let her into the back garden tonight. Floo me if you want to come home. Otherwise, I'll pick you up tomorrow around 9 o'clock. _

_Love,_

_Mother_

Sending Hermes off into the light of the early evening, Hermione began to gather her notes when she was again interrupted. Blaise's black owl, Nox, had replaced Hermes on the windowsill.

_To Hermione and Alexander,_

_I'm unsure of your plans for the evening, but I would like to invite you to dinner, if you have no prior engagements. If you are amiable, I have reservations at _Trés Belle Chanson_ at six- thirty. Please let me know within the hour. _

_Blaise_

'It would be easy to lie.' Hermione mused. 'If I simply said Xander and I were having dinner with someone, or that I'm simply not feeling well.'

'But why lie?' Hermione thought a moment later. 'Maybe it would be nice to have dinner with him. No Xander, so we could talk openly, and it's not like it's a date or anything. It's just dinner. Plus, you still need to talk about the custody arrangements.'

Hermione quickly scratched out an affirmative reply before she lost her courage.

_Blaise,_

_Xander is staying at the Potters tonight, and is subsequently unavailable. However, I would be happy to dine with you- there's something I wish to discuss with you, away from the ears of small children. If the offer still stands, I will meet you inside _Trés Belle Chanson _at six- thirty. _

_See you then,_

_Hermione_

Attaching the parchment to Nox's leg, Hermione hurriedly gathered her things and moved towards the door to her rooms. _Trés Belle Chanson_ was a very high class restaurant, and if the mirror's reflection held any truth, she had a lot of work to do.

~(o)~

She wished they would stop staring at her.

Sitting in the reception area at _Trés Belle Chanson_, Hermione was the object of many patron's speculation. Her status of a war heroine allowed her the unofficial 'right' to dine at the exclusive restaurant, but she still felt out of place.

Dressed in a dark turquoise sheath dress that dropped to her ankles, Hermione's hair was in a pretty French twist. Her irregular dressiness was attracting more than one not- so- subtle glance, and Hermione wished Blaise would hurry up and get there.

As if Hermione's thoughts had summoned him to the spot, Blaise appeared a moment later, smiling broadly.

"_Buonasera, Cara_." He greeted quietly. "I must say, you look wonderful tonight."

Trying to suppress a blush, Hermione returned his greeting before gesturing to the hostess' stand at the front of the room. "Shall we?"

"Absolutely." Blaise agreed, offering his arm. Hermione reluctantly took it, desperately mentally repeating her mantra of 'This is not a date!'

"Zabini, party of two." Murmured Blaise to the hostess. The restaurant lighting was a soft, gold tone, and a woman, accompanied by several instruments, sang quietly in French on a dais in the corner.

The pair was quickly escorted to the lofted part of the dining room, which was reserved for the restaurant's more affluent clientele. This section overlooked the main dining area, and only a half dozen tables were available.

As they approached their table, a waiter slid behind Hermione's chair, only to be waved away by Blaise. He pushed in her chair as she sat, and Hermione couldn't help but comment as she unfolded her napkin.

"I suppose chivalry isn't dead, after all." She said with a smile.

"Hmm, if you really believe that, then you haven't been spending time with the right kind of people." Blaise smirked.

Hermione ignored the jibe. "I hear this place has a month- long waiting list." She glanced around the room, taking in the decor "How did you manage to get a spot on such short notice?"

"The owners are long- time friends of my family's." Blaise said, not glancing up from the wine list. "They usually keep a few tables open for acquaintances."

Hermione began to skim the menu, watching as the text changed from French to English and back.

"Now, you said you wanted to discuss something?" Blaise broke the silence that had descended over the table.

"Yes. I've been thinking, and we haven't written up a custody agreement for Xander yet. I mean, I don't really think we need one now, since it's summer holiday for Xander and I, but things will be different during the school year."

For a moment, Hermione thought she saw something flash across Blaise's face; a emotion that she couldn't immediately place. But before she could identify it, it had vanished.

"Of course." Replied Blaise smoothly. "Why put off tomorrow what can be accomplished today, hmm?"

Before they could talk any further, a waiter slid up to the table. Blaise ordered a bottle of wine that he insisted Hermione would like. The pair placed their orders; _Blanquette de veau_, a veal dish, for Blaise, and duck with sautéed mushrooms for Hermione.

After the waiter departed their table, Blaise turned back to Hermione. "Now, before we start talking about the custody agreement," was there a hint of repugnance in the tone as he said the words? "we need to talk about what happened last week with my mother."

Unconsciously, Hermione's face twisted into a scowl at the mention of Elena. "I suppose you've taken her side, and want to chastise me?" she spat, already rising from her seat. "Too bad I don't want to sit here and be lectured. I'll be going now."

Before she could completely stand, Blaise spoke in a calm, deadly voice. "Hermione you will sit back down _now_."

Part of her wanted to storm from the table, just because she could. However, without her complete consent, her body chose to immediately comply with his order. Lips twisting into a pout, Hermione petulantly sat back in her chair.

"Now," Blaise began after taking a deep breath to compose himself, "Before you decided to make a scene, I was about to tell you that I am not taking either of your sides. Although my mother insists she did nothing wrong, I know she has the tendency to say things she doesn't necessarily mean." Hermione snorted, the unladylike sound earning her a stern glance.

"I have confidence in your abilities as a mother, and will back your future decisions as I see fit. But that's not what disturbs me in this ordeal. From what Mother said, Alexander had…well, frankly, it sounds like he had a fit."

"Oh, that." Hermione waved a hand. "I told you he has a temper, and he's a bit more powerful than kids his age. It's not that bad."

"When did you tell me this?" asked Blaise.

"That first night, after we got back from the hospital wing." Hermione insisted. "You were looking at that chunk that came out of the table, and I told you about the window shattering incident at my parent's house."

"Yes, I suppose I do remember that." Mused Blaise, thinking back. "I was a bit distracted that night, as you can imagine. But Hermione, that's much more powerful that what's normal."

"Oh, please Blaise, Xander is hardly the next Dumbledore." Scoffed Hermione, but inside a ball of unease was beginning to grow.

"I'm not saying he's the next Dumbledore, or the next Dark Lord. But accidental magic isn't usually that destructive. Most wizarding children stick to levitating things, or changing the colors of objects. Or, in extreme cases, like Potter's, inflating your aunts." Giving a small smile, Blaise continued. "From the way Mother described it, it was quite a bit worse."

"He was very upset!" defended Hermione.

"Hermione, please, I'm not trying to upset you. All I'm saying it maybe we should look into getting some help."

"What kind of help?" she asked reluctantly. Tears were forming in her eyes, no doubt smudging her mascara.

'What if I've been handling this the wrong way?' she thought.

Blaise leaned across the table and enfolded her hands in his own. Giving a light squeeze, he looked into her eyes. "There's a branch of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes that deals primarily with accidental magic done by small children. They work with children like Alexander, with power above the normal range. I think we should take him to have him registered, and see if they can refer us to a specialist."

"And have them poke and prod at him? Have him told he's not like other kids his age? Absolutely not!" Hermione tried to pull her hands out of his grasp to no avail.

"Hermione, what if he hurts someone? What if he hurts himself? This might just get worse as he gets older, and the Ministry will be less lenient as he grows. Plus, they're hardly going to run experiments on him." Giving her hands a gently squeeze, he looked at her imploringly. "Please, Hermione. I won't go behind your back to do this, but I want to keep my son safe. I really, truly believe this is for the best."

Looking over the dining room below, Hermione took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Okay. Okay, we can go. But the second I think it's not good for him, we're leaving."

"Of course." Blaise conceded. Dashing the tears from her eyes, Hermione began to relax. Perhaps it _was_ for the best.

Before long their waiter delivered their food. Both their dishes looked fantastic, and the pair dug in. As they ate, they made conversation.

"So how's your job going?" asked Hermione, slicing into her duck.

Blaise made a noise in the back of his throat as he chewed. "It's stressful. This case with the Harpies is driving me mad. All the players have basically turned against each other, and the coach is a complete idiot. The owner of the team is apparently thinking about firing the lot, and getting together a new team. Of course, their business is good for the firm, but it's still a bloody pain. The Wizengamot is apparently going to make their ruling on the lawsuit next week, which is good. I'm not sure how much more of this I can take."

"Do you think you'll win?" asked Hermione.

Blaise gave her a mock reproachful glance. "Of course I'll win- I'm Blaise Zabini."

Laughing softly, Hermione smiled. "Always so full of yourself- I remember when we were in school; you always scared all our classmates in debate. Your own self- confidence made them doubt their own beliefs."

"Well, at least I wasn't as bad as you! No matter how hard we all tried, none of us could remember all the details you did. Scared Ernie Macmillan to death." Said Blaise

"Ernie Macmillan? He was scared of me?" she questioned

"Merlin, yes." Laughed Blaise.

"No!"

"Yes."

"But why?"

"He comes from an old pureblood family, and you ousted everything his old granddad had ever told him. Mind, he's hardly prejudiced- his parents are very liberal minded- but I once heard him say he thought you would become the next Dark Lord, what with all the information you had crammed into your head."

Sitting back in her chair, Hermione couldn't help but feel surprised. Ernie had always been so nice…although, she would probably be nice to the next Dark Lord, too.

"You think you know a person." Said Hermione, stealing a roasted tomato off Blaise's plate.

They set in comfortable silence for several minutes, the clink of silverware the mingling with the music.

"So I suppose you're done with your teaching conferences, now." Said Blaise, and Hermione smiled.

"Yes, my last one was today. The topic was 'Books Versus Broomsticks: The Effects of Quidditch on the Adolescent Mind. Terribly interesting."

"Oh? Do tell." Said Blaise, genuine interest shining in his eyes.

Hermione beamed. When she wasn't talking to colleges, she often didn't get an interested audience member when it came to her work. Her friend's eyes held polite interest, but nothing more. She had missed these talks with Blaise.

"Well, studies show that Quidditch is both good and bad as a stimulator for kids…" and so Hermione continued their discussion, much to both their delights.

The subject soon turned to other points of interest: an article they had both read in _Potion's Monthly_, the rising value of the galleon, and a tsunami that was currently forming off the coast of Japan. Hermione shared some amusing anecdotes about Xander over the years, and Blaise updated her on Brutus' heart problem. The pair continued to steal food off each other's plates, falling into the old habit as if the past decade were little more than a dream.

Somewhere between the main course and dessert, Michael Buble and Ivan Lin's "Wonderful Tonight" was played by the musicians downstairs.

"Oh, this brings back the memories." Said Hermione, her voice tinged with a bit of wistfulness.

Standing, Blaise offered her his hand. "Dance with me."

"Oh, Blaise, I haven't been dancing in such a long time…" Hermione protested, but allowed him to pull her from her seat. The couple moved down the stairs. A large spot had been cleared in the room to act as a dance floor, and he pulled her onto it without hesitation. Other couples swayed to the music around them, and Blaise held her a little closer than what was strictly appropriate.

Internally, Hermione was at war. 'What ever happened to 'keep a casual distance' in this relationship? What about 'what's in the past is in the past?' Part of her mind railed, unsettled by the rapid beating of her heart.

'Let things happen.' Said a soft, but sensible voice. 'You'll always put Xander first, but that doesn't mean you have to neglect yourself. Just go with your gut- It's rarely steered you wrong before.' With that, the objecting voice began to fade, and Hermione made a decision.

Stepping closer, she laid her head on Blaise's chest, and listened to his heartbeat, steady and strong. As she felt his arms tighten around her, Hermione felt completely and utterly _safe_.

* * *

><p><em>Translations:<em>

"_Non, jeune fille_! _Non!__" _(French)

-A rebuke; No, young lady, no!

"_Oui_..._Si tu ne peux pas jouer gentiment, tu vas rester avec moi à l'intérieur."_ (French)

-Dialogue from Fleur to Dominique; Yes...if you can not play nicely, you will stay inside with me.

"_Buonasera_" (Italian)

-A greeting; Good evening.

_"Cara"_(Italian)

-Term of endearment; dear, darling

* * *

><p>Chapter Ten Author's Note:<p>

This is my longest- ever chapter at +5,350 words!

As anyone who has ever written Fleur's dialogue will attest: she wreaks havoc on a computer's Spell Check feature.

A few things I love: chocolate, bad jokes, and reviews! Make my day?

Gotbooks93


	11. ELEVEN

**Time's Up by Gotbooks93**

**Summary: **_After successfully hiding the existence of her son for eight years, Hermione is out of luck and time. When the father of her child discovers her secret, their quiet worlds are changed forever. Join Hermione as she takes on the challenges of co-parenting, snake charming, and a crazy little thing called 'love'._

_**Disclaimer: I own many things, but not any recognizable characters, things, or places in the Harry Potter series. Somehow, I doubt that JKR would agree to joint custody…shame, that.**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>CHAPTER ELEVEN<strong>_

"What happened to your face?"

"Nothing!"

"Xander, there's a huge gash on your forehead!"

"No there isn't."

"Alexander, stop trying to flatten your fringe over it- you aren't fooling anyone."

"See Father? This is why I didn't want a haircut!"

"I do see. It seems highly inconvenient."

"No, Blaise, you do _not_ see. Oh Xander, stop messing with it, let me look…Merlin, how did this happen?"

"It doesn't even hurt that badly. Aunt Luna already healed all the bruises-"

"Bruises? What bruises? I don't see any bruises."

"I told you- Aunt Luna already healed them!"

"Don't use that tone with me. Now what were you doing to get a bruises _and_ a cut like that?"

"Well, Teddy and I were watching the little telly that Uncle Harry hides in his study, and then we were watching Teen Titans, and then Teddy said BeastBoy was better than Cyborg, and I said he was wrong, because Cyborg can shoot a laser cannon out of his arm, and then Teddy said BeastBoy was better because he can become a giant gorilla like King Kong, and then I said that wasn't a good argument 'cause King Kong wasn't even real-"

"Alexander, please get to the point."

"Oh yeah. Um, Teddy and I got in a fight, and we both got a little bit banged up, and Aunt Luna healed us up, but she left some stuff so we would Learn Our Lessons."

"Good for her, I would have done the same thing."

"Out of curiosity, what did she leave to teach Teddy a Lesson?"

"A wicked bad black eye. And she made him heal it the muggle way, with meat, but you can still see it."

"Must have been a pretty nice punch. That's my boy."

"Blaise."

"I mean- Alexander, fighting is wrong. I will not have you brawling like a muggle. At least wait until you get your wand so you can duel properly-"

"Blaise!"

"-But of course that would be wrong too, so just learn to talk about your feelings, like some bloody Hufflepuff pouf-"

"BLAISE!"

"Oh Hermione, come on, I can't have him getting picked on at school. The Slytherins will eat him alive."

"That's it!"

"Wait, Mother, where are you going?"

"Inside to find Aunt Luna, since the two of you are obviously daft."

~(o)~

"Honestly Lu, you should have left him the bruises. They'll teach him more of a lesson than his father will." Said Hermione as she entered the kitchen. Harry, who was sipping coffee at the table, laughed at her statement.

"I wouldn't want to endanger permanently harming your son's pretty face." Luna smiled.

"His pretty face is going to get him in trouble one of these days." Hermione stated. "And probably at least a few of the girls in his year too, in a few years."

Luna laughed, sliding into the bench beside Harry. "All jokes aside, have you spoken to Ginny lately?"

"Gin? Nope. The last time we talked must have been last week, at Bill and Fleur's."

Harry and Luna exchanged a glance.

"What?" asked Hermione, slightly alarmed. Her friends both wore looks of discomfort, and she couldn't help the worry that bloomed inside of her.

"Well…I mean, we don't want to spread any rumors." Said Harry hesitantly. "But apparently she's having a bit of a job scare over the Harpies lawsuit."

"The one Blaise is working on?" asked Hermione. She felt stupid directly after asking it. What _other_ Holyhead Harpies lawsuits were currently going on?

"Yeah. Apparently the managers are thinking about sacking the whole team and just building a new one. The player's contracts, including Gin's, run out in September, anyway."

Hermione felt guilty. Blaise had told her the same thing last night at dinner, but she hadn't thought of Ginny at the time.

"And if Gin does loose her position, she'd be in a bit of a pickle, right? I mean, all the professional teams already have their picks for the next season, and their reserves are in training, too."

There was a pause. "I can try to talk to Blaise about it. I think he knows the owners, a little."

Luna broke in. "Hermione, please don't think we only told you this because of your connection with Blaise."

"I know, Luna." Hermione reassured. "Seriously, though, I do need to get Xander home."

Hermione, Blaise, and Xander soon floo'ed home, and Xander slunk off after saying goodbye to his father. He and Teddy had obviously stayed up late the night before, and Hermione guessed her son was already napping in his room.

"I actually need to go." Said Blaise, not moving from his place next to the hearth. "I'm meeting Draco and Theodore for brunch. But I'll see you tomorrow afternoon, so we can all go to Xander's appointment together."

Hermione nodded distractedly, her mind still on Ginny's predicament. She was quickly brought back to the present when she realized Blaise had stepped closer to her, winding his arms around her waist.

"I'm not sure if I mentioned, but I had a great time with you last night." He murmured into her ear, nibbling her earlobe lightly. "We should really go out more, just the two of us."

Biting her lip, Hermione nodded. "I had a lovely time, too. Maybe…maybe next time you could come home with me, instead of being a gentleman like you were last night." She lightly traced her fingers over his arms, nuzzling his jawline. He hadn't shaved that morning, and the light bristle she found there was a direct contrast to the soft skin of her lips.

Blaise turned his head, capturing her lips with his own. The pair kissed lightly, languidly, and Hermione felt desire begin to pool in her belly. Their kisses became more aggressive, and soon Hermione was pulling her mouth from Blaise's, gasping for air. Undeterred, Blaise trailed a line of kisses down her throat, and sucked at a sensitive point at her collarbone. Dazedly, Hermione knew his little bites and kisses would leave a rather dark love bite, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

Pulling his head back up to her own, Hermione immediately opened her lips to his tongue. Her hands slid down from her place at Blaise's shoulders, to the line of buttons on his shirt. Just as she managed to undo one, Blaise pulled back. His hands, which had been gripping her hips, eased their hold. He leaned his forehead against her own, panting softly.

"If we go much further, I'm going to be in a very uncomfortable position when I meet Draco and Theodore." He said.

"Skip brunch. I have something more fun in mind." Said Hermione, without thinking.

Blaise chuckled lightly, nudging his nose against hers. A moment later, his countenance changed, and Hermione was caught in the amber glow of his eyes. "Hermione, it's been almost nine years since I've had you. When we come together again, it won't be a substitution for anything else, and our son will not be sleeping in the next room."

His reminder of Xander jolted Hermione from the hazy mindset that had overcome her. She leaned back slightly, feeling guilty. What was it about this man that took over every other thought?

"You better go." She said, smiling slightly as she re-did the button on his shirt. "I don't know Nott, but I'd rather not be on the receiving end of Malfoy's wrath if you're late."

Blaise nodded, kissing her on the nose. "I'll drop by around two tomorrow. See you later."

Hermione made her way down the hall, quietly opening the door to Xander's room. He was spread out across the bed, one of his skinny legs hanging over the edge. What was it that allowed children to sprawl out like that, and yet slumber on?

While Xander had abandoned his pillow completely, it was not unoccupied. Selena lay in tight coils on the soft cushion, presumably asleep. Her contemplated moving the serpent to her aquarium, but decided against it for safety reasons. Better to let sleeping snakes lay, then.

An hour later, Hermione found herself in her office, making tweaks to next year's lesson plan. She was interrupted by a light, unexpected tap at the door. Calling for her visitor to enter, she was both pleased and surprised to see Ginny Weasley come in.

The light streaming in the window played off the brilliant red shade of Ginny's hair, and Hermione felt a pang of envy. The other woman was undoubtedly gorgeous, although her troubled countenance somewhat offset the overall image.

"Ginny! Hi, I wasn't expecting you." Hermione said, surprised. She stood up from her desk, briefly embracing the redhead. Calling for Kurty, she ordered a tea tray from the kitchens, much to his delight- the Hogwarts house elves didn't have much to do during the summer months.

Ginny smiled sheepishly. "I hope you don't mind me popping by like this. I actually wanted to ask you a favor."

"Oh?" questioned Hermione, although she suspected it would be similar to the one Harry and Luna had asked earlier that morning.

"Yeah, it's about my job." Continued Ginny hesitantly. "I don't know if Zabini has said anything, but there's a rumor going around that the owners might cut the team, because of all the animosity over the lawsuit. I mean, we can't play properly if we all want to slit each other's throats, right?" She laughed nervously.

Discomfort bloomed in Hermione's stomach. While she was fine with asking Blaise to talk to the owners, she didn't want to get Ginny's hopes up.

"So, I wanted to ask you willyourecommendmetoMcGonaga gllaboutHooch'sjob?"

"Wait, what?" asked Hermione.

Ginny's ears tinged red in her embarrassment. "I heard Madam Hooch was talking about starting her retirement, and I'd really like to take her place if she steps down. But I know the competition for the job is going to be pretty fierce if she does, and I'd really appreciate it if you would mention I'm interested. I mean, I really hate to have to ask, but the adoption agency has finally given Pansy and I the thumbs up to start looking at the kids, and they'd put up a red flag if they found out I wasn't fully employed anymore-"

"Ginny, I'd be happy to put a good word in for you, but I thought you loved playing Quidditch, not teaching first years how to ride brooms, or refereeing school Quidditch matches…"

"Oh, don't get me wrong." Said Ginny hurriedly. "I would love to keep playing pro, even if it wasn't with the Harpies, but me and Pansy's chance at starting a family is on the line, here. I can't risk that just to keep playing pro."

Hermione smiled, nodding. She knew what it was like to decide to choose between old dreams and one's family.

"No worries Gin, I'll make sure both Hooch and McGonogall know you're interested." She said.

Ginny heaved a sigh of relief. "Thank you so much, Hermione. It really means a lot to me."

The pair soon fell into easy conversation, discussing the adoption process and Pansy's most recent redecorating of their flat. They sipped their tea, and Ginny munched on the accompanying biscuits. After an hour, Ginny made her way home, still complaining about Pansy's insistence that they needed a zebra print rug in their flat.

~(o)~

"Mother, this is silly. Let's go home." Xander said, his voice holding no small amount of frustration. He shifted in his seat again, swinging his legs.

"Xander, sit _still_. You are driving me mad." Hermione said, reaching out to still his swinging legs.

"But _why _do I have to do this? I promise not to get angry again. Truly." Her serious little eight year old maintained steady eye contact as he made the oath.

Hermione sighed, seeing the anxious flick of his eyes when he looked at the doors that lead out of the waiting room and to the offices beyond.

"Alexander, there is no reason for you to be frightened. They're just going to run a few tests, talk to your mother and I, and maybe speak with you for a moment. It's nothing to be afraid of." Blaise said, running a soothing hand over his son's back.

A moment later, a woman with a clipboard came out and called for Alexander Granger. The trio stood from their uncomfortable plastic chairs, and moved toward the long, sterile hallway, following the woman. She waved them into a room- one which reminded Hermione remarkably of a standard muggle examination room- and told them their healer would be in before long.

Hermione lifted Xander onto the examination table, the thin plastic covering crackling under his weight. Running a gentle hand through his hair, she could practically feel his tension. She had rarely ever brought Xander to the Ministry or St. Mungo's, as Poppy Pomfrey would perform checkups and healing as needed. The process was much less costly, and the paperwork required was minimal. However, as a result, Xander's inexperience obviously had him on edge.

The door soon opened to reveal an older wizard, dressed in healer's robes. He was followed by a middle- aged man in the standard Ministry uniform.

"Good afternoon!" said the healer as he entered, giving a broad smile at Xander. "My name is Healer Stiles, and this is Mister Lang, the agent in charge of Alexander's case file."

Xander mumbled a 'hello'. Hermione and Blaise both introduced, shaking hands with the two men. Hermione tried not to let her disgust show when Mr. Lang's eyes raked over her, taking in her body from her head to her toes. His thinly disguised lechery had her pulling her hand back before long, and the reassuring feel of Blaise's palm on her lower back calmed her.

"Now, my understanding is young Alexander may be a candidate for ECES- Extreme Childhood Energy Syndrome." The healer continued jovially, and Hermione couldn't help but like the man. He vaguely reminded her of her elderly grandfather, especially by the kindly way he spoke to Xander.

"We believe so, yes." Answered Blaise. "He has accidental magic every once in a while, just like every other child, but it seems to be a bit more…potent than others."

"I see, I see." Said Healer Stiles, jotting down some notes on his clipboard. "And can you describe some of these outbursts to me, Mr. Zabini?"

"I think I might be a little better suited to describe them." Interjected Hermione. "Xander lives with me, and I've been present for most of the incidences." If possible, Lang's face became more lascivious, his eyes darting to Hermione's unoccupied ring finger.

"Please then, Ms. Granger, tell me of the ones you can remember." Healer Stiles invited.

"Well, he doesn't have them too often- maybe four per year- but they're usually rather...er..destructive." Hermione felt a pang of guilt, knowing Xander was listening to her every word. "The first time it was anything significant, he was around three. We had just moved into Hogwarts- where I teach- and I came into the room and he was making all of my books floating around the room. I guess I must have startled him when I came in. But instead of all the books dropping, they began to fly around the room, knocking things over; a few smashed through the windows." Hermione continued to tell the healer about the exploits she could remember, and Healer Stiles jotted down every incident as she told it. He had a rather sizeable list by the time she finished.

Looking over the parchment, Healer Stiles nodded to himself. "Plenty of parents we see are convinced their child is 'special' even though they're usually around the normal range for magical power. But judging by your accounts, Alexander is definitely a candidate." He confirmed. "We've actually had a decrease in ECES kids in the past few years, but he's not alone. Now, the next step in the process is to have his magical power measured."

"Why doesn't every child have their power measured?" asked Hermione. "I mean, it would be a way to figure out who's a squib, and I'm sure most parents would be interested in their kid's magical abilities and levels."

"The way we measure it is somewhat controversial." Confided Healer Stiles. "The tool needed is one of four in the world, and before it was perfected there were some defects. It's highly regulated, and it can only be used during certain months, but it shouldn't be a problem to do it today. But not to worry- the new model poses no danger to Alexander or his magic."

"Will it hurt?" asked Xander warily.

"No, my dear boy, it won't hurt." Reassured the healer. "Although you will feel rather peculiar when it happens. You see, the device- called an assessing amulet, goblin made, of course- takes your magic out of you, measures it, and returns it to you without delay. No one will be able to touch you or interfere with the process while it takes place, and the only side- effects are slight fatigue and maybe a greater appetite for a week or so."

Xander squeezed Hermione's hand tightly at the announcement, and Hermione gave a reassuring squeeze back.

"Shall I go and fetch the amulet, then?" asked Healer Stiles. After he received an affirmative answer from both Hermione and Blaise, he bustled off down the hallway.

"Mister Lang, was it?" Hermione heard Blaise's smooth voice from behind her. "My understanding is you were old friends with my mother, Elena Zabini?"

Hermione turned in time to see Lang's beady, blue eyes tear away from her back, turning to face Blaise. She shuddered, repulsed. The man's greasy, dirty blonde hair was slicked over to the side, and his teeth had a faintly yellow tint.

"Yes, Elena and I have been good- er,_ friends_- for some years." Lang responded after a moment.

"She gave me a message for you. Perhaps we could step into the hall and discuss it?" While Blaise's voice was polite, there was obviously no other acceptable answer other than 'yes'.

Blaise and Lang stepped into the corridor, leaving Xander and Hermione alone in the room. Silence reigned for several minutes.

"Mother, what is Father talking to that man about?" asked Xander.

"Oh, nothing to worry about, I'm sure." Reassured Hermione, although she did feel a twinge of unease. "Probably something to do with your father's-"

Hermione's voice faded out as they both heard a distinct _thump_ against the wall outside the door. Hermione and Xander exchanged a glance, and Hermione scrambled to find an acceptable reason for the noise.

Before she could, Xander casually said, "Father's a bit frightening sometimes, isn't he? I think I'm very glad he's on our side."

Giving a weak laugh, Hermione nodded. "Yes, I think I am, too."

A moment later, the two men walked back into the room; Blaise wore a slightly smug expression, although he was trying to hide it from Hermione's assessing gaze. Lang was too busy straightening his rumpled robes for Hermione to see his expression.

"Glad we could have that chat." Said Blaise genially as he came to stand behind Hermione. His hand gently cupped the curve of Hermione's waist through her robe. "It's always nice to keep up with old friends, isn't it?"

Lang, his ego bruised, grumbled the affirmative, and kept his eyes studiously away from both Hermione and Xander. Hermione wanted to twist around and ask Blaise what he had done, but was unable to do so as Healer Stiles came back into the room. His face displayed repressed amusement, and Hermione couldn't help but suspect he might have caught part of the conversation taking place in the hallway.

"Here we are!" said the jolly healer, holding an intricately carved cherry wood box. The surface gleamed in the artificial light of the room, and Hermione immediately felt the subtle pulse of a highly powerful object in the vicinity. The feeling was similar to the one she had felt near the Goblet of Fire, and again near the Veil in the Department of Mysteries.

"Now, the process is quite simple." Said Healer Stiles. "I will place the amulet around Alexander's neck, and he will lie back. For several minutes, he will go into an altered state of mind while the magic is drawn from him and into the amulet- I'm told there's a faint sucking feeling that accompanies the process." He said, addressing Xander before continuing.

"After the amulet has harnessed his power, it will display several things that will tell me about his power levels and possibly abilities, before it will return all of Alexander's power to his body." He said, turning to Xander. "You might feel a bit overwhelmed for a second, and fatigue will set in a moment later. Do you have any questions?"

Xander shook his head, and Hermione hugged him, trying to ease his nerves. "Then let's get started! Ms. Granger, you'll have to let go of the boy- none of us can touch him during the process, as it can become dangerous to both him and yourself."

Reluctantly, Hermione drew away as Xander shifted on the plastic- covered padding of the examination table. Behind her, Blaise placed his hands on her shoulders. Hermione could feel the tension in them, and hoped Xander couldn't see his father's anxiety.

Taking out his wand, Healer Stiles cast several assessing spells over Xander. To the side, Hermione noted Lang's bored expression. He had obviously seen this procedure performed before.

Taking out the assessing amulet and placing the delicate chain around Xander's neck, Healer Stiles slid it beneath his shirt, against the young man's chest. Hermione admired the amulet.

It was large, clear crystal, inlaid in what looked like platinum. There were various runes sketched into the edges, and the chain was a series of different- sized links. Xander shivered under the cool metal.

After confirming that Xander was ready, Healer Stiles cast an activating spell Hermione didn't know. "_Tui __Facultas__!_"

Immediately, Xander's eyes began to droop and the crystal began to glow in a clean, white light. The light became brighter and brighter, pulsing in clear, heavy beats. Then, ever so slightly, the light changed from a clear white to a coral pink. This was followed by sea- green, butter yellow, and a green so dark it was nearly black. As the colors blended from one to another, Hermione saw certain runes around the crystal light up. The healer, scribbling furiously on his clipboard, also noted these runes, as well as the colors.

After the colors had repeated themselves three times, the crystal began to fade back to its original white. The process overall had taken nearly ten minutes, and at some point Hermione had taken Blaise's hand, holding it tightly with her own.

Quickly releasing his hand from the death- grip she held it in, she noted the faint semi- circles her fingernails had left in his skin. Giving him an apologetic smile, she turned back to Xander. The white light had begun to fade, leaving the crystal altogether. Soon, it simply looked like an ordinary piece of goblin- wrought jewelry, worn by a very tired- looking eight year old.

Healer Stiles cast a careful "_Wingardium Leviosa_ over the amulet, magically placing it back in the velvet- lined box. After releasing the spell, Hermione heard his quiet exclamation of "Well, that was interesting, hmm?" As he looked over the notes on his clipboard.

Hermione noticed a moment too late as Xander began slowly tipping to the side. He lost consciousness, landing on the examination table with a quiet _thud_.

* * *

><p><em>Translations:<em>

"_Tui __Facultas__" _(Latin)

-Latin incantation; Tine ability

_"Cara"_(Italian)

-Term of endearment; dear, darling

* * *

><p>Chapter Eleven Author's Note:<p>

Hit that review button!

_Gotbooks93_


	12. TWELVE

**Time's Up by Gotbooks93**

**Summary: **_After successfully hiding the existence of her son for eight years, Hermione is out of luck and time. When the father of her child discovers her secret, their quiet worlds are changed forever. Join Hermione as she takes on the challenges of co-parenting, snake charming, and a crazy little thing called 'love'._

_**Disclaimer: I own many things, but not any recognizable characters, things, or places in the Harry Potter series. Somehow, I doubt that JKR would agree to joint custody…shame, that.**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>CHAPTER TWELVE<strong>_

"Perfectly normal." Said Healer Stiles as he looked at Xander's prone figure, flopped over on the examination table. "Some children are simply too overwhelmed with the return of their magic. That, coupled with the lethargy, sometimes causes them to briefly lose consciousness."

Despite this reassurance, Hermione moved to her son's side, gently stroking his hair out of his face. Her fingers grazed the nearly- healed cut on his forehead, and she mused that he had managed to comb his bangs in a way that mostly hid the injury. Clever boy.

"Now, as for his results." Continued Healer Stiles, making small marks over the parchment in his hands. "I'll need to run them through some runic translators and a few Arithmancy equations. Luckily, Alexander is my last appointment for the day. If you're willing to wait for an hour or two, I can have the results calculated before you leave."

Blaise asked Hermione if she had any other appointments for the day. When she responded in the negative, he confirmed that they would wait for the results.

"The Ministry's cafeteria has some food that it technically edible, but hard to palate. If you're looking for something better, there's several small restaurants on the fourth floor. They're a bit pricier, but certainly worth the cost if you ask me." Healer Stiles continued. "I'll be back in around two hours, if you two would like to go grab a bite to eat." With that, the healer exited, Lang following silently after him. Just as the door was about to swing shut, Hermione saw the man turn around and take one last look at her. She shifted uneasily- the man's gaze made her skin crawl.

Turning around, Hermione saw that Blaise had pulled a chair up to Xander's bedside. "I'll go get some food if you'll stay here with him." Hermione offered. Blaise nodded, pulling out a handful of galleons from the pocket of his robes. Pretending not to hear the quiet clink of the coins, Hermione turned toward the door with every intention to leave without the monetary offering.

"Hermione." Blaise said from his seat, his voice holding a note of finality. The galleons weren't an offering, then- they were an order.

"Blaise, you paid for dinner the other night. Let me get this one." Hermione said, impatient.

"Absolutely not. I will be paying for the meal." Said Blaise, and she thought she saw a spark of deviousness in his expression before it was gone. He jingled the coins again, lightly.

Hermione mentally debated taking the money, before surrendering. She didn't have the energy to fight him on the matter, and Blaise wouldn't take 'no' as an answer. Reaching for the offered coins, she gasped as he moved like lightening.

Still seated on his chair, Blaise's empty hand snaked around her waist, pulling her between his parted legs. His other hand, quickly disposing of the coins in his pocket, wrapped around the back of her right thigh, holding her securely to him.

Hermione had automatically placed her hands on his shoulders, steadying herself. Blaise, his head much lower than her own, looked up at her with playfulness dancing in his golden eyes. "I'm afraid the galleons come at a price, Ms. Granger." He murmured cheekily.

"But I already offered to pay for dinner!" said Hermione, her voice a little breathless. "Why don't you just let me go get it?"

"I think my way is much more fun." Said Blaise. Leaning forward, he lightly ran the tip of his nose along the dip under her breasts. Hermione let out a quiet gasp at the contact, and Blaise closed his eyes, seeming to savor the sound.

"Blaise, Xander-"

"-is completely asleep, I am sure of it. Now, as for your payment for the galleons." He continued, continuing to nuzzle the outline of Hermione's chest as he spoke, "Will be one kiss, which will end at my say- so."

Hermione, caught between excitement at his actions, and amusement at his antics, agreed to his terms with a nod. Lowering her head, she lightly brushed her lips across his own, gently nipping his full lower lip. Blaise immediately eased her lips open with his tongue, slipping into her mouth.

Their tongues slid against each other, firm but not dominating. The sweet taste of Blaise lingered in Hermione's mouth as their lips pulled and pushed against each other, a dance as old as time.

When he had turned Hermione into a breathless, sensitive mass of nerves, Blaise pulled away, gently pressing his lips against hers once, twice, three times, as if saying farewell.

"Well done Ms. Granger," Blaise said, his voice a little rough. "If I were awarding grades, you'd get an 'Outstanding'. As it is, I'll just have to hand over the money for our dinner."

"Thank you, Mr. Zabini," Her dry tone was spoiled a little by her lack of breath. "shall I go fetch your dinner, sir? Perhaps a copy of the _Prophet_ for you to read, and your slippers, while I'm at it?"

"No, I've already read today's issue of that rag." Blaise replied airily. "Just dinner, I think." He slipped several galleons into her open hand, kissing the back of it as he folded her fingers over them.

Trying and failing to repress a smile, Hermione turned on her heel and started to march towards the door. Before she got far, Blaise patted her lightly on the bum, giving a cheeky, "Don't take long. I'm rather ravenous."

As Hermione hurried to the fourth floor, she thought of the deep, smooth laugh that had accompanied her exit. 'That man could charm the knickers off a nun, I swear.' She thought. Despite this, she couldn't help the scarlet blush that spread across her face- nor her small, happy smile.

~(o)~

Holding a takeout bag containing their dinner (Green curry dishes for she and Blaise, and fish and chips for Xander) Hermione walked down the hall toward the door to their room. Just as she was about to open the door, Hermione paused, her hand still on the door handle. Inside, she could hear the voice of Xander, quickly followed by the deeper rumble of Blaise's.

While Hermione had seen the two interact often enough, she was vaguely curious about what they talked about when she wasn't around. Gently pressing her ear to the door, she waited to hear the conversation start back up.

"-just have to show them something impressive from the get- go. If they see you know your way around a wand, they'll know to lay off, and things will be easier for the rest of your time at Hogwarts." Blaise was saying.

"Something impressive?" Xander's voice, quieter, asked.

"Something clever, that isn't in the standard first- year books. _Confundo_ would do well, although not at full power- just enough to mix someone up a bit. The flame in a bottle charm- your mother is quite good at that one. Or jelly- legs hex, if things get nasty."

"Do you think things _will_ get nasty, Father? I mean, if I am in Slytherin, which everyone says I will be. It rather sounds like none of the Slytherins are really, truly friends."

"Most of them will only be looking out for themselves, without a doubt. But there will be a few of them that you can trust. Those are the ones you want to ally yourself quickly, so they can have your back."

"Like you and Uncle Draco?"

"Yes, like me and Uncle Draco, although we weren't really friends until around our fourth year. I learned rather early on that it was useful to spread out your allies, your friends, into other houses. It makes life easier, having a larger network."

"Like you and Mother?"

A long pause accompanied this question, and Hermione wished she could see Blaise's face.

"Not exactly." Blaise responded quietly. "Your mother and I never spoke a word to each other until we were sixteen, and only because we were paired for an Arithmancy project. Sometimes I wonder what it would have been like, if I had been friends with her before that. By the end of our sixth year, she was my closest friend, besides Draco."

"What was Mother like, back in school?" Xander asked, and Hermione leaned away from the door, trying to stifle her giggles. Her son would surely be disappointed by Blaise's response. She was much the same in Hogwarts as she was now.

"-of the prettiest girls in our year, although half the boys were frightened of her." Blaise was saying. Hermione frowned. She was hardly a beauty, especially back then.

"Did she have a boyfriend, besides you?" asked Xander. Hermione heard the quiet rustle of tin foil. If Blaise was giving Xander sweets before dinner, she was going to hex him.

"She dated a Bulgarian boy named Viktor Krum for a bit, and then a Gryffindor named Cormac McLaggen, who was a year ahead of us. Bit of a ponce, if you ask me, but I suppose we can blame Slughorn for that relationship."

"Slughorn?" asked Xander. "What's that?"

"Professor Slughorn taught potions in our sixth and seventh year." Said Blaise. "He had this club, called the Slug Club. It was sort of his collection of students who had good connections, or real potential. I was in it, and so was your mother. Harry Potter, Cormac McLaggen, Melinda Bobbin…Draco never did get in, funnily enough. Always drove him mad, that. Anyway, Slughorn used to throw these little parties we would all have to attend, and McLaggen asked your mother to be his date before I could. Scared her off easily enough, if I remember correctly. Isn't that right, Hermione?"

Hermione's mouth twisted, and she leaned back from the door. Perhaps he was bluffing.

"I know you're there, _cara_. I can see your shadow next to the door. Alexander, always pay attention to the shadows. They might tell you more truth than light will." Blaise imparted the wisdom to his son as Hermione eased open the door, still holding the take- out bag.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you not to eavesdrop, sweetheart?" Blaise asked as he unpacked the containers of dinner.

"Didn't _yours_ teach you not to eat sweets before supper?" retorted Hermione, nodding toward the small stack of tin wrappers on Xander's bed.

"Ah, son, we've been caught. Make sure to eat all your food, or your mother will have my head." Said Blaise, winking at Xander.

The trio quickly started eating, Xander easily eating his whole meal and part of Hermione's leftovers, obviously famished from the magic measuring process. A few minutes after they had thrown away their food containers, Healer Stiles re- entered, carrying his ever- present clip board. Mr. Lang did not accompany him.

"Well, I have the results of Alexander's tests." Said Stiles, pulling up a chair. "Overall, Alexander scored a nine- point- two. Now, most magical children his age would score right around a four, maybe a five. However, highest recorded score for an eight year old is a twelve, so according to Ministry he needs to be registered as someone who has ECES."

"What about his health? Isn't too much magic in the human body dangerous?" asked Hermione.

"It certainly is, especially for children. However, we aren't too worried in your son's case. We usually start getting concerned if they score over a ten during their first test. However, Alexander's magic isn't done growing, so he'll need to see a specialist to help stabilize his power as he gets older.

"An old friend of mine, Johan Woodwork, is a specialist in dealing with children like Alexander. However, he isn't as young as he used to be, and has trained several apprentices over the years, and I know one of them currently has an opening in his schedule. His name is Evan Clearwater, and he works in a small magical clinic in London, called St. Kendall's. I need you to both sign off on Alexander's registration paperwork." he handed the parchment to Hermione, who waited for Blaise to look over the legal jargon before signing.

"I've also written up a referral to Master Clearwater's practice." Healer Stiles handed an envelope to Blaise, who slipped it into an inside pocket of his robes. Standing, the two men shook hands. Xander jumped off the examination table as Healer stiles gently shook Hermione's hand, then Xander's. "Please feel free to contact me if you have any questions, and I wish you all the best of luck."

~(o)~

"Can you believe the nerve of that man?" Hermione hissed from her seat. "Sending me away from my own child- me, his mother! We've been dismissed!"

"Exiled." Agreed Blaise, who sat in the seat beside her.

"Banished!" Unfortunately, Hermione found she was too furious to note the tone of humor in his voice. And so, the tirade continued.

"Expelled from his presence." Blaise continued to feed Hermione's diatribe.

"Exactly!" exclaimed Hermione, huffing. "I mean, who does he think he is, the bloody Queen?"

"Mmhmm." Hummed Blaise. "I mean, it's not like he's an expert in his field, or anything."

Hermione opened her mouth to agree, and then stopped short. "You think I'm being silly?"

"I would never call you 'silly' my dear," he said, a slight smile dancing about his lips. "However, I think you should let the man do his job."

Hermione grumbled lightly. She and Blaise were sitting in the waiting room at St. Kendall's Magical Medical Clinic. They had arrived an hour prior, and met Even Clearwater. The man had explained where he had gained his mastery in the medical arts, and he confirmed that he was indeed Penelope Clearwater's cousin. After a few preliminary questions, Master Clearwater had revealed he had a copy of Healer Stiles' notes. Hermione's recounting of Xander's various accidental magic incidents was included. After he confirmed a few minor details with Hermione, he had politely made a request of Hermione and Blaise: "Mr. Zabini, Ms. Granger, go sit in the waiting room for the rest of the hour. Alexander and I have a few things we need to discuss."

Hermione, shocked at the blunt dismissal, allowed Blaise to maneuver her out of her chair and toward the door. As they came upon the doorway, Hermione heard Master Clearwater begin to question her son. "So, Alexander, how about you tell me about yourself?"

Seeing Hermione coming out of her haze, Blaise hurriedly closed the door behind them and seated her in one of the waiting room chairs.

Hermione sighed, trying to reign in her temper. The thought of abandoning Xander when he was obviously uncomfortable went against the grain, and her Momma Bear claws had come out. But Blaise was right- the man was an expert, and maybe some one- on- one time would we more effective if she weren't hovering. In an effort to distract herself, Hermione picked up an old copy of a wizarding medical journal, idly flipping through it. Upon reaching the back cover, she tossed it back onto the coffee table and spoke.

"Now that we have a minute, I wanted to ask you something." Hermione said, turning in her seat so that she faced him. "It's about the Harpies case."

Looking surprised, Blaise raised a brow. "Oh?" he asked, not giving anything away.

"As you know, Ginny Weasley is on the team, and she's worried about being cut- you told me the other night that the owners are thinking about just building a new team since their contracts will be up soon."

"I did." Blaise agreed.

"Anyway, apparently word has gotten back to the team that their contracts probably won't be renewed in September." Blaise remained silent, and Hermione pressed on. "I haven't said anything to her, in case it doesn't work out, but could you possibly talk to the owners into keeping her on next season? I know you know them already, and Gin really wants to keep playing pro."

Blaise looked at her unblinkingly, all traces of his previous good humor gone from his face. Silence stretched on between them, and Hermione shifted in her seat, trying not to look away from his face.

"Blaise, please understand- I know there's a chance you won't be able to do anything, and that's okay. But could you just try? Apparently Pansy and Ginny's adoption eligibility is on the line if Gin can't find a steady job, and they've already waited so long to start." Hermione couldn't help the pleading tone that crept into her voice.

Blaise opened his mouth, looking thoughtful, when Hermione was distracted. Seeing the door to Clearwater's office swing open out of the corner of her eye, she turned to see the man in the doorway, smiling pleasantly.

"Would you two please re- join us?" asked Clearwater.

They simultaneously stood, Blaise allowing Hermione to pass into the room first. Inside, Xander sat on the same chair as before, but a tissue box was on the table next to him. Trying to be inconspicuous, Hermione glanced at his face, checking for tears. Finding no traces of them, she allowed herself to relax.

"Firstly, I'd like to say that I'm quite optimistic for Alexander's future progress," began Clearwater when they were all seated. "Unless you object, I don't feel the need to refer him to one of my colleges, and hope to treat Alexander in the future."

"Xander, darling, is that okay with you?" Hermione leaned in and whispered in his ear, and he gave her a firm nod in response. Nodding to Blaise, she spoke to Clearwater. "Master Clearwater, we'd be happy to continue working with you if you can fit us in."

"Please, call me Seth." He said. "Now, my methods usually run similarly to those used by muggle psychologists. It is my belief that by creating mental stability within the child, the probability for outbursts of power, or accidental magic, are greatly reduced. I usually pair this method with several other, more physical ones, depending on the child."

"What kind of physical means are we talking about, here?" asked Hermione warily.

"Some of my past patients find it useful to apply for an early wand." Said Seth, "It allows the child to cast a few standard spells, and channels their magic into a concentrated source. Highly Ministry regulated, you'll understand. But honestly, I don't think that would be beneficial for Alexander in the long- term. Instead, I'd like to start him off with some basic meditation and physical exertions, such as martial arts training."

"Okay, what can we do at home?" asked Hermione.

"I'll give Alexander a short book on the art of meditation and how it influences magical abilities. The fact that he already has a familiar- Selena, was it?- should help him reach a state of mental stability. Instead of starting with martial arts right away, though, I'd like you to start taking him on jogs, perhaps have him participate in some pick- up Quidditch matches. Studies show the routine and physical exertions caused by running are beneficial to magical stability during the childhood years."

Seth went on to explain his hopes for Xander's progress, and suggested a schedule. For an hour two times a week, Xander would visit the clinic and talk to Seth about things going on in his day to day life.

"I think we'll be able to manage that," agreed Hermione "however, Xander and I will be leaving on a week- long vacation next week to Hawaii. Perhaps we could begin his counseling when we return?"

Seth nodded, filling out a patient form. He handed Hermione the form. "I'll schedule his first session next two weeks from now, then." He said, "That paper should detail the cost of my services, any recommended reading for the two of you as parents, and my personal floo address. Please contact me if Alexander has any incidents. Now, let me walk you through some basic meditation techniques…"

A few minutes later, the trio departed St. Kendall's and apparated to a park Hermione and Xander frequented. Xander trotted off, heading towards the swings, leaving Hermione and Blaise alone on the park bench.

"When were you going to tell me about your little trip?" Blaise suddenly spoke, his voice cold.

"I suppose I just forgot to tell you," Hermione explained, making an effort not to fall into the argument he was obviously itching for. "Everyone knows I take Xander on a trip before the school year starts back up, and I guess I just assumed you knew. I'm sorry I forgot to tell you, but I'm going to take him anyway."

"Have you ordered an international portkey yet? A hotel room?" He asked after a pause.

"Not yet," Hermione admitted, shifting her weight. "I'll do it when I get home. They usually have several portkeys scheduled during the summer months, so I'm not terribly worried."

"Why Hawaii?" He asked.

"The weather is fabulous, and neither of us have ever been there. I'd like a couple of days on the beach. Xander and I both enjoy the time we have together, without any interruptions."

There was a long pause, and Hermione fought the urge to look at Blaise's face. Then:

"Perhaps I can make a better offer." Blaise's voice had turned warm and smooth, like melted butter. Her guard was immediately up; she knew from experience that he used that voice when he wanted something. "I'll be making a trip to Italy soon, and I was hoping to take you both with me."

"Italy?" she asked.

"Yes, Italy. It would be nice to have Xander see where his ancestors come from, and I'd love for you to see the original Zabini Manor."

"I don't know, Blaise…" Hermione was hesitant.

"Think about it, darling. Some of the most beautiful beaches in the world are in Italy, and the weather is fantastic. Not a bleary heat, like here in England. My family has a pretty little beach house, just meters from the ocean. I'll have to work for a day or two, but that will give you some time to spend with Alexander, one-on-one." He coaxed. "_And _we have to keep the press in mind. What looks better in newsprint- a mother and her son, sans his father, or a lovely family getaway, postcard perfect?"

Hermione's mouth twisted at the mention of the potential articles; she and Blaise had long- since learned to ignore the press, but she knew Xander still read the _Prophet_ a little too closely.

The selfish part of her brain was annoyed. This was the one time of year that she got Xander all to herself, without the interruption of homework, grading, or other people to interfere, and she truly believed this was what made her so close with her child.

When her silence persisted, Blaise pulled out the big guns.

"If that won't change maybe this will: If you and Alexander come with me to Italy next week, free of charge, of course, then I'll put in a good word for Weasley."

If he didn't have her attention before, he did now. Seeing her turn to face him, Blaise continued. "I can't guarantee anything as far as the Harpies are concerned, but an old friend of mine has some sway on the Puddlemore United team. He owes me a favor- some very unsavory photos of his sister almost leaked to the public, and their family's name would be in the trash if it weren't for me. I can't guarantee a starting position, but she could at least be in reserve. Not the same salary, but it's hardly chump change. Certainly enough to appease the adoption agency, as far as she and Pansy are considered. "

Hermione knew he was using blatantly sneaky tactics to cohere her into agreeing. He was basically bribing her, the sneaky Slytherin. But he was offering something that she _did_ want, and perhaps Italy would be nice?

"All right." Hermione conceded. "If Xander agrees, we can go."

Clearly sensing victory, Blaise pressed his lips to her cheek, murmuring "_Grazi, bella_."

"Alexander," Blaise called toward the swing set, where Xander was on his belly, legs and head hanging over the edge of one of the swings.

At his father's call, he peered at his parents through the upside- down V of his legs. "Yes?" he called back.

"Come here, I want to ask you something." Blaise called back.

Hermione couldn't help but wonder what she had gotten herself into.

* * *

><p><em>Translations:<em>

"_Grazi__" _(Italian)

-An expression of gratitude; Thanks

"_Bella_" (Italian)

-Term of endearment for females; Beautiful

_"Cara"_(Italian)

-Term of endearment; dear, darling

* * *

><p>Chapter Twelve Author's Note:<p>

For everyone celebrating Turkey Day today, Happy Thanksgiving! I hope everyone stays safe for the holiday, and you all eat until you can't eat anymore. Personally, I'll be sitting in front of the T.V., cheering against the Dallas Cowboys at football. Go Dolphins!

Reviews feed the muse, so drop me a line!

Gotbooks93


	13. THIRTEEN

**Time's Up by Gotbooks93**

**Summary: **_After successfully hiding the existence of her son for eight years, Hermione is out of luck and time. When the father of her child discovers her secret, their quiet worlds are changed forever. Join Hermione as she takes on the challenges of co-parenting, snake charming, and a crazy little thing called 'love'._

_**Disclaimer: I own many things, but not any recognizable characters, things, or places in the Harry Potter series. Somehow, I doubt that JKR would agree to joint custody…shame, that.**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>CHAPTER THIRTEEN<strong>_

Hermione's suitcase shut with a quiet _click_. Standing back, she surveyed the war zone that was her bedroom. Numerous articles of clothing were strewn about the room, and small stacks of books littered the floor. Hair products were scattered on the counter in her bathroom alongside her makeup, and shoes took up residence in highly unlikely places- on her nightstand, on the side table, and next to bedposts. Flicking her wand, she set the rooms to rights, sending clothing soaring back into the closet, marching shoes back into their proper places on the rack, and books flying back into their spots on the bookcases in the living room.

Xander ducked a worn copy of _Hearing Helga: A Founder's Story_ as he slid into the bedroom, with Selena loosely wrapped around his neck. His own suitcase dragged on the ground behind him. Muttering a feather- light charm on his suitcase, Hermione mentally ran over her mental checklist. She had informed McGonogall, Harry, Ron, and her parents she would be gone. Selena's food, water, and heating rock were all packed away, and she had their passports in her satchel. Finally, she had gone by Flourish and Blott's and picked up two books, _So Your Child Has Extreme Childhood Energy Syndrome by Wallace Brickard_ and _Power Before Puberty: A Parent's Guide to ECES by Flourine Nighturne_.

Looking around her room, Hermione eased her suitcase off the bed. "I suppose we're ready, then?" She mused, Xander nodding in agreement.

She noticed Xander anxiously shifting his weight from foot to foot, obviously ready to leave. After casting a few standard wards on the door and windows, Hermione and Xander floo'ed to the Ministry of Magic.

~(o)~

Hermione settled into her seat in the Department of Magical Transportation. Blaise, who had met them shortly beforehand, had taken Xander to collect their international portkey from the front counter.

The woman sitting next to Hermione in the waiting room was cradling a fussy baby boy, and Hermione's heart went out to her. Although Xander was now a well- behaved child, he had been a new mother's nightmare as an infant. He had been a light sleeper and a picky eater, and had succumbed to countless ear infections. It was a wonder that Hermione had managed at all, if you asked her.

Seeing the baby's face turn a deeper shade of pink as its cries became louder, Hermione surreptitiously looked for the cause. After a moment, her well- trained eyes landed on the infant's small, chubby leg, which poked out of the blue blanket that covered him. Part of the little boy's leg was an inflamed red color, and she quickly spotted the problem.

"Excuse me?" Hermione gently said, addressing the frazzled young mother.

The other woman, confused, turned to face her. She spoke over her child's steadily increasing hollering, her voice tinged with distress. "I'm so sorry about the noise- he's normally such a good baby. I can't figure out what's wrong with him!"

"I think I may know the problem." Hermione said with a slight smile. "If I may?" she gestured toward the baby.

After a moment's hesitation, the other woman gently handed over her squalling son. Flipping the blanket up, Hermione immediately found the laundry tag attached to the soft blanket. Giving her wand a flick, she vanished the tag from the blanket. She cast a mild cooling charm directly after, and the baby's screams immediately began to fade. A moment later, the complacent baby was cooing happily, staring up at Hermione with red- rimmed eyes.

"Merlin, how did you know that was there?" asked the other mother as she accepted the child into her arms. She inspected the red patch of skin on her son's leg, softly rubbing a finger over it.

"It comes with experience. Usually when babies fuss and you can't find a reason it's something small that you wouldn't think of. Their soft skin is very sensitive to things like tags, but a cooling charm puts them to rights." Said Hermione with a smile.

"Are you a mum, then?" asked the woman.

"I am," confirmed Hermione. She pointed to Blaise and Xander, who were conversing as they waited at the counter. "That's my little one over there."

"What a handsome little boy!" the woman exclaimed. "How old is he?"

"He's just turned eight." Said Hermione, smiling softly as she watched them interact. Turning back, she gestured to the baby in the woman's arms. "Treasure him while he's young- before you know it, he'll be grown up. Sometimes when I wake up, I half expect to hear a baby crying down the hall, and think it's time to feed him."

"I don't know about that." she said. "I would kill for a night of uninterrupted rest. My husband's an auror, and he works the night shift, so he's not around to take a turn getting up to feed the baby."

Hermione nodded. "Try putting a cooling charm on the under- sheet in his crib during the summer." She advised. "And if you have a spare wireless radio, keep it playing quietly as he sleeps. It will keep him from waking up at loud sounds after a few weeks. I did it with my son, and he is a very deep sleeper now."

"And is that his father?" Asked the woman, her eyes taking in Blaise's form appreciatively, despite the ring on her finger. At Hermione's nod, she gave a wink, still watching Blaise and Xander . "You're a lucky woman."

"Why do you say that?" asked Hermione.

She got a small smirk in reply. "I think I would wind up with more than one baby if I had a man like _that_ to wake up to."

"Oh, no!" said Hermione, her face heating. "We're not-"

"Oh, it's all right love. You two can't be more than thirty! I mean, I know having a child can put a damper on things, but all the books say a couple needs to make 'alone time' a priority." The woman prattled on cheerily. Hermione realized she was quite the chatter, now that her kid was quiet.

"No, you don't understand." Hermione insisted. "Blaise is-"

"Ready to go, if you are." Blaise cut in, as he walked up. Xander trailed behind him, closely examining what appeared to be a crushed toaster.

Snatching up her and Xander's suitcases, Hermione stood. Glancing at Blaise's face, she did a double- take.

His eyes were slowly sliding over the other woman's body, pausing on her stomach, on the baby in her arms, and then on her greatly- enhanced cleavage. Hermione knew from experience that the size of her breasts was likely due to breast milk, but still felt a pang of jealousy. As Blaise's eyes continued to rove over the other woman, Hermione felt her ire rising. It was one thing to glance, but quite another to linger this way!

"Blaise." Hermione said through clenched teeth. "Let's _go_."

Blaise tore his gaze away from the other woman, seeming to come back to himself. He looked surprised at Hermione's glare, and raised a single eyebrow in question. Casting a disdainful look at him, Hermione spun on her heel and started moving towards the designated take- off point. She didn't bother to say good-bye to the other woman.

As she walked, Hermione couldn't help but wonder when she had become such so jealous. 'He obviously sees our intimacies as something casual.' Hermione determined. 'And everyone knows the person who cares less hold the power in a relationship. Snap out of it, Hermione! You're too old to be getting attached to someone, especially if he clearly doesn't feel the same way. Just enjoy this vacation- you've earned it. But keep your distance.' She couldn't help but feel that she had given herself this pep- talk before, and cursed Blaise for putting her out of sorts. This erratic behavior was starting to annoy even _her_.

During her mental inducement Hermione had neared the portkey point, and she took several deep breaths, forcing the green- eyed monster into the dark recess where it dwelled. Wiping her expression clean, she turned around.

"Are you ready?" Hermione asked Xander as he hurried up to her. "Now, remember what I told you- portkey travel is a bit disorienting, but it passes quickly. Try to gain your feet before the magic releases you, but I think they install automatic ground cushioning charms in these things nowadays, so it shouldn't be too bad if you fall. Do you have Selena?" she asked, continuing when she saw the serpent's head peek out of Xander's shirt collar. "All right, get a firm grip."

Hermione and Xander took a hold of the toaster, and Blaise reached out, his hand joining theirs. When his fingers brushed hers, Hermione's eyes darted to meet with his. He looked confused, and a little more troubled than before. Hermione plastered a smile on her face, although the expression didn't reach her eyes. "Here we go." She said with forced enthusiasm.

A second later, the hook behind her navel jerked her forward, and Hermione took one last breath. As the ground dropped from under her feet, she shut her eyes tightly. The swirls of color and light always made her nausea worse.

After what seemed forever, she had the sensation of endlessly falling. Prying her eyes open, she saw the ground rushing up to meet her. She bent her knees a second before her feet hit the ground, only wobbling a little as she landed. Blaise, too, had landed on his feet, his suitcase still in hand.

Xander, however, was not so lucky. Landing on his back with a dull thud, he let out a little moan as he rolled on the ground. Sitting up, he clutched his head.

"Mother, I don't feel so good." He said as Hermione and Blaise each took an arm, hauling him up.

"It will pass, darling." She tried to console him. "Take deep breaths."

However, he continued to clutch his head, swaying uneasily on his feet. "I really don't feel well." He whimpered again.

A moment later, he leaned over, expelling the contents of his stomach. Directly onto Blaise's shiny black shoes.

~(o)~

"Father, I'm sorry." Xander said for the umpteenth time.

"Alexander, I told you, it's not a big deal. They're just shoes, and they were getting old, anyway." Blaise said, a note of exasperation creeping into his voice.

"But I-" Xander began again, clutching his father's hand.

Coming to an abrupt stop, Blaise crouched down so that he was at eye level with his son. "Alexander, did you vomit on my shoes on purpose?"

"No, of course not!" his son exclaimed, only to be cut off by Blaise's hand motion.

"Then we have nothing left to discuss." Blaise said, gently ruffling his hair as he stood.

Hermione looked around her. They were walking along a dirt road, lush green plants around them. The normal humidity of England was greatly reduced in Italy, and Hermione was grateful as she continued to trek uphill.

"I thought we were staying at a beach house." Commented Hermione, still gazing around her. She was vaguely worried that the portkey had dropped them in the wrong place.

"We are. It's just up ahead." Blaise gestured forward, where the road reached its peak. Hearing this, Xander ran towards the crest of the road, apparently recovered from his traveling sickness.

"Hermione, is something wrong?" inquired Blaise, lowering his voice so Xander wouldn't hear. "Your mood seems to have turned sour, and I'd like to know the reason."

"My mood is fine." Snapped Hermione, her happy façade slipping. "I'm on a bloody vacation, Blaise, why would I be in a rotten mood?"

"Hermione, I'd like to enjoy this vacation, and-"

"Look, Blaise, I'm sure we will both enjoy this vacation quite a bit. I get to spend with Xander, and I hear women run around nude on the beaches here, so you'll have plenty to look at." Hermione said in a scathing tone, keeping her eyes straight ahead. She was quickly realizing that jealousy was a very potent emotion- dangerous, too.

"Now hold on, _b__ella_!" Blaise began again, and Hermione turned her gaze to him, her eyes shooting daggers. Normally, she didn't mind his Italian endearments at all; they made her feel special, pretty. But now she knew they were just empty words. Along with his kisses that made her knees weak and the way his firm arms held her close. Just something to pass his time, it seemed.

"No, _you_ hold on, Blaise Zabini!" Hermione spat. Opening her mouth to read him the riot act, she was cut off.

"Wow!" Xander exclaimed from his place at the top of the slope. "Look at the view! Mother, Mother come see this!"

Hermione's smile was less forced this time as she hurried up the hill, hands still holding the feather- light suitcases. That would be her plan, she thought resolutely. She would enjoy the warm Italian sun with her child, and avoid conflict with his father. Xander was bound to pick up on it after a while, and she was determined not to spoil his vacation.

Reaching the top of the hill, Hermione's breath caught in her lungs. Spread across the horizon was the sea. A deep, cerulean blue, she could see the tiny specks of white on its surface, sailboat owners enjoying the day. Smooth, light sand spread out across along the coast, a direct contrast to England's rocky beaches. Sea gulls swooped through the air, although they were too far away to hear their cries. A breeze carried the smell of salt to them through the air, and the sun shone brightly.

"_Benvenuti in Italia_" murmured Blaise from behind her. "Welcome to Italy."

~(o)~

Flopping onto the fluffy white comforter, Hermione let out a moan as the soft surface cradled her body. It had been a long day, and stressful at that.

Being angry took up a lot of energy.

After they finished admiring the view, Blaise had revealed their lodgings weren't far. A well- paved stone path branched off the dirt road, and lead to a beautiful house, hidden in the trees.

Hermione thought it was much too large to be considered a 'beach home', with five bedrooms and bathrooms, a full kitchen, living room, dining room, sun room, parlor, and staff quarters. Out the back door was a small, clear pool, and Hermione thought she saw a car in the adjoining garage. The whole thing overlooked a long stretch of beach, which was a five minute walk away. Oh, to be absurdly wealthy.

The only staff on hand were an older Italian couple, Rosa and Johan. They lived in the house year- round, up keeping the home and surrounding garden. Neither spoke more than a few words of English, of course. Blaise immediately introduced Hermione as Xander's mother, and they instantly identified Xander as Blaise's son. Admittedly, the boy was a spitting image of his father. Hermione couldn't help but liken the resulting din to the parable of the prodigal son, come home at last.

Although Xander had feebly tried to explain that he spoke no Italian, Rosa continued to prattle on in the romantic tongue. She quickly escorted him into the kitchen, instantly placing a plate of sweet cakes in front of the boy. He had quickly stopped trying to explain their language barrier, and popped one of the cakes into his mouth, nodding along to whatever the Italian woman was saying.

Although the sun hadn't set by the time they were settled in, the travelers opted for a night in, instead of venturing out to the beach. All three were tired from the portkey journey, the short trip wearing on them. After a brief tour and a quiet dinner, they had turned in for an early night. Hermione promised to take Xander to the beach directly after breakfast, and perhaps a local trip to the nearby town, if they were up to it.

Hermione's room was painted a serene powder blue, with crisp white accents to adorn the room; and the quiet pad of her feet sounded nice as she walked across the wooden floorboards. After using the en suite bathroom to prepare for bed, Hermione slipped into the sleepwear she had packed: an indigo silk night dress, perfect for the hot summer nights. A matching house robe had come with the nightie, dyed in the same deep purple.

Admittedly, she had been in a more sensual frame of mind upon its purchase, the idea of Blaise's attention making her daring. Now, she just felt a bit foolish.

'I'll just be sexy for myself' thought Hermione determinedly as she pulled the hem of the nightdress, which came a few inches above her knees. She took her long, brown hair out of its elastic, shaking the curls free.

The soft glow of the bedside lamp lit the room, and Hermione pushed open the French doors that lead out to the balcony of her room. Relishing the light, warm gust of wind that blew in, Hermione was just climbing under the blanket when a quiet rap came from the door to her room.

Forgetting her house robe in her surprise, Hermione drew open the door, expecting Xander on the other side, awake from a nightmare, or Rosa with more towels. Instead, Blaise leaned against the door frame, his hazel eyes burning.

"_Cara_, I think we need to talk."

* * *

><p><em>Translations:<em>

"_Benvenuti in Italia__" _(Italian)

-An expression of welcome or greeting; Welcome to Italy

"_Bella_" (Italian)

-Term of endearment for females; Beautiful

_"Cara"_(Italian)

-Term of endearment; dear, darling

* * *

><p>Chapter Thirteen Author's Note:<p>

Not much to say, but [insert usual plea for reviews here].

Gotbooks93


	14. FOURTEEN

**Time's Up by Gotbooks93**

**Summary: **_After successfully hiding the existence of her son for eight years, Hermione is out of luck and time. When the father of her child discovers her secret, their quiet worlds are changed forever. Join Hermione as she takes on the challenges of co-parenting, snake charming, and a crazy little thing called 'love'._

_**Disclaimer: I own many things, but not any recognizable characters, things, or places in the Harry Potter series. Somehow, I doubt that JKR would agree to joint custody…shame, that.**_

_***I'd like to remind everyone that this story is, indeed, rated M for mature. So if you're not 18 please go away. **_

* * *

><p><em><strong>CHAPTER FOURTEEN<strong>_

For a moment, Hermione considered slamming the door in his face.

This thought apparently showed in her expression, as Blaise placed his bare foot against the door jamb before she could move a muscle.

After a long pause on her part, Hermione sighed. "You have five minutes. Come in." Turning around, she settled onto the outside sofa that was on the balcony. She didn't bother to flip on the outside light, preferring the light spilling out from her bedroom. She knew from experience that 'talks' with Blaise were easier to manage if he couldn't see her face clearly.

Hermione kept her gaze forward, even as she felt Blaise settle onto the sofa next to her. Her eyes wandered over the incredible view: the vast, dark spread of the ocean, lights blinking in the distance as ships made their nighttime voyages. Despite the fact that the sun had set several hours ago, the air was still warm. However, she could feel Blaise's body heat as he sat next to her; she shivered.

The silence stretched on, the only noise the drone of the cicadas in the surrounding trees. After a moment, Blaise cleared his throat.

"I'm going to get right to the point." He began. "As far as I can tell, your mood turned sour directly before we left England, although I can't seem to find a reason as to _why_. Now, we can both beat around the bush and let the problem continue, or we can deal with it like rational adults. What's it going to be?"

"I don't see what you mean by 'problem'" Sniped Hermione mulishly. "Don't worry, Blaise, you've straightened me right out; if you want to be with other women, I won't be the one to stop you."

"Other women?" he asked, shocked. "Where did you get the idea that I want to see other women?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe the way you were gawking at that woman's breasts at the Department of Transport?" said Hermione sarcastically. By the time she had finished her sentence, she felt the slow tightening of her throat, a sure sign of tears. Taking a deep breath, she strove to fight off the emotional response.

"What are you even talking ab- wait, are you talking about the woman next to you with the baby?" He asked, his voice tinged with incredulity.

"Yes, the _woman with the baby_." Said Hermione, her tone scornful. "You certainly took enough time ogling at her breasts! You know they're only that big because she was breast feeding!" She felt foolish at her blatantly jealous tone, and took another deep breath.

"Yes, Hermione, I was looking at her body-" Blaise began, his tone starting to heat.

"I knew it!" Hermione exclaimed, springing from her seat like it was aflame. "Look Blaise, I obviously misinterpreted your intentions when it comes to…us… and I won't get in the way of you doing _things_ with other women, but I can't keep doing this. I-"

A second later, Blaise had reached out and grabbed her hands in his own, pulling her back onto the couch.

"Hermione! You will sit down and listen to what I have to say, or so help me I find another way to shut you up." The anger in his tone shocked her back into the present, and Blaise took advantage of the resulting silence. "As I was saying, I was only looking at that woman's body because it reminded me what I _missed out on_."

"I- I- what?" asked Hermione, her eyes brimming with tears.

Blaise huffed an angry, irritated breath. "Look, I didn't use to pay much attention to pregnant women, or ones who have recently had babies. But ever since I found out about Alexander, I have this- this- _need_ to imagine you at that time. I don't have any way of knowing what you looked like after your body brought him into the world, or what you looked like when you cradled a newborn baby. I don't know what you looked like when you carried our son inside you. I don't have any memories of you feeding him, or changing him, or playing with him.

"You've worked off all the curves that come with being a new mother, but Hermione I _want to know_. So I look at other women when I see them with a baby, but not for any lascivious reasons. I don't see their face, I see yours." By the time he had finished his explanation, his voice had gentled, his tone pleading with her to understand. Both Blaise and Hermione wore expressions of deep emotion, and Hermione's tears had begun to trickle down her face.

"Blaise I'm so sorry." Whispered Hermione, tentatively scooting towards him on the sofa. "I don't know why I'm so jealous. I just- I suppose I'm just not sure where we stand in our…relationship...and it unleashed the jealous harpy in me. Merlin, I don't remember ever being this horrid when we were teenagers." She laughed a little at that, carelessly swiping her nose on the back of her hand.

"_Tu sciocco, cara ragazza_," murmured Blaise, tugging her into his embrace. "Why would you think I truly ever see any woman but you?" Seeing Hermione's mouth open in protest, he continued. "But I am not without fault. I should have stated my intentions from the beginning, and saved you all this worry. My only defense is that it was so… so _easy_ for me to fall back into our relationship, just like when we were young, that I didn't consider you felt any different. But I will fix this, here and now."

Leaning back so he could see her tear- stained face, Blaise spoke with a surety that left her no doubts. "Hermione, I adore you, and only you. Your wit, your poise, and your beauty have all left me without defense. You have given me life's greatest gift through a child- although I am sure I would love you even if Alexander was not a part of our lives. Either way, I intend to court you, and you alone." He then paused, his face twisting into one of mild displeasure. "I would ask you to be my girlfriend, but the term seems so…"

"Juvenile?" suggested Hermione, feeling the same way.

"Exactly." He agreed. "But no matter what it is we call this, I intend to be with you exclusively, if you will have me."

Hermione nodded, but something nagged at the back of her mind. "Blaise, I really, truly want to be with you. But all those years we were apart, I was always seeing you in the paper and magazines with some dazzling woman on your arm. Didn't any of them find a place in your heart? I mean, Blaise, eight years is a long time to be alone."

"Looking back, I can say without doubt what I shared with those women was empty. Spending time with you and Xander makes me happier than any of them ever could, Hermione. I won't lie- I'm a man, and a human one at that. I'm not perfect. But the only woman I will have my eyes on is you."

Normally, Hermione would swear this was too good to be true. His words were something out of Luna's romance novels, or from the script of a romantic play. But the truth that shone out of his eyes was enough to convince her. "You can expect the same monogamy from me, then. I only ask one thing."

"What's that?" he inquired as he pulled her against his side.

"I want to break the news that we're together to Xander gently. Every parenting book I've ever read says that some children have trouble adjusting from one parent to two. I know he's taken your role in his life very well, but I don't want him to feel like he's losing either of us to this relationship. I mean, he's only eight. Still a little boy."

"Fair enough." Blaise agreed. "We'll clue him in slowly. Is there anything else you want to talk about?"

"No, why?" asked Hermione, puzzled.

"Because I intend to have your lips otherwise occupied for the rest of the night." Said Blaise confidently as he tiled his head towards hers.

The moment their lips met, Hermione gasped. Before, Hermione could always feel the raw desire that dwelled within her lover, strong and steady. This time, though, there was a deeper connection between them. As his lips brushed along hers, she could almost taste the words _I love you_. After a moment, Hermione pressed her lips more firmly against his, wanting to feel his strong, reassuring body against hers. Before, their kisses tended to either burn with an animalistic passion, or be the long, lazy kiss of people who had all the time in the world.

This kiss was different. They were using their mouths to find more than physical pleasure- they were using the kiss as a new way to express their adoration. Blaise normally controlled their more…amorous…moments, but this time both were equal participants. Blaise eased her into his lap, and Hermione couldn't stop herself from pressing their bodies together, wanting to feel his heart beat with hers.

Blaise was the first to break their kiss for once, panting for air. Hermione, undeterred, kissed and nipped the skin of his throat, slowly working her way down his body. She gave a sharp nip to the sensitive skin right above his collar bone, and then laved it with her tongue.

As she sucked the section of skin into her mouth, pulling lightly, she registered her intentions. She hoped to leave her mark on this beautiful, intelligent man, and inwardly sighed. It seemed that Blaise brought out the best and worst in her- especially her possessive side.

"Fuck, Hermione." Blaise breathed as she continued to suckle the flesh. She swelled with feminine pride at the moan.

Drawing back, Hermione took in Blaise's nighttime attire for the first time. Clothed in a dark, cotton v- neck t-shirt, his well- formed physique was easily seen through the thin fabric. His bottoms also displayed certain pleasing parts of his anatomy.

With long, thin stripes of silver and dark blue, the fabric of Blaise's cotton drawstring pants did little to hide his prominent erection. It jutted firmly against the underside of her thighs, and Blaise had begun to softly rock against her, his head thrown back in pleasure. Pale moonlight lit one side of his strong features, with the warm glow of the bedroom's light poured over the other side.

Hermione emitted a little whimper at the sight, taking in the long, tanned lines of his exposed neck.

Watching her beautiful Italian lover, Hermione's arousal flared even more brightly. She twisted her body so that her legs straddled his, her indigo nightie sliding up her thighs. The new position had her moaning in pleasure as it aligned their neediest parts, the tip of his engorged member rubbing against the apex of her thighs. Even through the fabric of his pants and her silk panties, Hermione could vaguely feel the hard ridges of his cock.

"Oh! Blaise you feel so good." Hermione gasped, rocking against him more urgently.

"Hermione, I can feel your heat on me through the fabric." Blaise replied, his gold eyes darkened with lust. He whispered dirty words in her ear, igniting her lust even more than before. "Do you like the feel of me, baby? Does the idea of what I can do to you make you wet? I bet you're soaked for me, aren't you?"

Impatient, Hermione grabbed the hem of Blaise's night shirt, tugging it up his body. The motion jolted him from is lust- induced haze, and he quickly lifted his arms to help. As soon as the shirt was tossed onto the balcony's railing, Hermione's mouth latched onto Blaise's flat nipple, gently biting the sensitive nub. Her long, curly hair dragged along the panes of his chest, tickling down over his abs.

This sensation had Blaise's hands flying to her hips, and he pulled her body harder against him. The movement dislodged Hermione's mouth from his pectoral, and Blaise quickly re-joined their lips. His eyes were squeezed shut tightly, and he looked as if he were trying to pour all his love into her.

Hermione could feel his hips continue to rock against hers, and denied him no longer. As she pulled her mouth from his, she hushed him when he let out a little cry of displeasure.

"Trust me, darling, I've got something better in mind." She purred into his ear. Her voice had gone husky, and she fought the self- conscious urge to clear her throat.

Slipping off his lap, Hermione knelt on the smooth stone of the balcony, placing her hands on his parted knees. Reaching up towards the tie of his drawstring, Blaise caught her hands in his.

"Sweetheart, please, you don't have to do this." He said, his hands shaking a little. But his grip was firm, and Hermione knew he would gracefully accept her decision, no matter what it was.

Despite his attempt to stop her, Hermione tugged her hands from his. She moved one over the bulge of his penis, and it twitched noticeably when she lightly ran her fingernails over the fabric. "Blaise, I already know I don't have to do this." She said. "I _want_ to."

With that, her other hand firmly tugged the tie to his pants, opening the front. Blaise, apparently having decided that day was a good time to go commando, sprang directly upwards, out of the fabric prison of his pants. Hermione took a moment to admire the long, thick appendage. It was swelled to it's largest size, and pre- cum leaked out of the purple head.

Their history together proved useful, reminding her Blaise had little patience for licks and kisses on his member when her mouth was close by. She took him directly between her lips, slowly adding inches into her mouth in an effort to strive off her gag reflex.

When he was fully seated in her mouth, Hermione began a soft sucking motion as pulled and pushed her lips over his length. Above her, Blaise spewed an incoherent stream of bilingual praise.

"Yes, Hermione, yes. That's so right, baby. _Mi raccomando! _Oh, Merlin, you're so damn good at this. C_ontinuare a fare questo_, _anima mia_, _si_. Yes, pet, please. I'm so close."

His words of encouragement made Hermione wetter than ever before. The fingers of her left hand slid down her body before sliding past the elastic waistband of her panties. She began to rub her clit with her thumb, timing it along with her sucks on Blaise's hardened cock. One finger, then two entered her, pumping with well- practiced ease. The feeling in her abdomen coiled ever- tighter, and she began to move against her hand in earnest.

Meanwhile, Blaise began to shallowly thrust into her mouth, and she could tell he was getting close. Feeling his long fingers in her hair, trying to draw her mouth off of him as he got closer to climax, Hermione lightly pushed his hand away with her unoccupied fingers. Withdrawing his cock from her mouth for a moment, she spoke.

"Blaise, baby, I want you to come in my mouth, please. Won't you fill my mouth with your seed?" She spoke sweetly, and Blaise's grip on her hair tightened. However, this time he pulled her mouth back over his manhood, trusting back in roughly in his passion. Hermione's moth and fingers worked faster than ever in an effort to bring them both to completion.

Then, without warning, Blaise's cum shot into her mouth and down her throat, and he moaned her name loudly as he came. She swallowed quickly, taking down the salty, creamy substance down her throat. Despite this, the liquid trailed in a thin stream out of the side of her mouth. Several moments later, Blaise came down from his orgasm, slumping a little against the sofa. Taking his now- soft member from her mouth, Hermione gently licked the silky skin of his shaft clean before tucking him back into his pants.

Opening his eyes, Blaise was just in time to see Hermione swipe up the cum on her cheek with one finger before she sucked it into her mouth. Blaise moaned at the erotic sight, before searching for her other hand.

Sitting up, he spotted her fingers, which were still tucked into the waistband of her panties. Hermione, seeing where his gaze had landed, blushed scarlet even as she shifted needily.

"Hmm, did you think I was going to leave you wanting, _tesoro_?" He cooed down at her, lifting her back onto his lap. "It looks like you were already taking care of it yourself, you dirty girl." He murmured into her ear.

Hermione let out a little whimper as he pulled her limp wrist out from under her night gown. He gently sucked on each finger, cleaning her juices from the tips. "Should I take care of you, my pretty girl?" He purred. "Do you want me to make you scream my name, out here where anyone could hear you?"

"Yes, please Blaise, please!" Hermione cried softly.

Blaise felt her body shaking slightly in his hold, and her skin was hot to the touch. The woman in his arms was a live wire, ready to come apart at the seams. He shifted Hermione on his lap so she faced him, settling her legs on either side of his own. Her face tucked into the curve of his neck, and he felt her soft, warm puffs of breath against his skin.

Sliding his fingers up her leg, Blaise treasured the soft, warm feel of her skin. He had dreamed about that texture while he was globe- trotting, and now sought to re- remember the feel. Blaise dragged the hem of her nightie along with his hand, and lifted it over her head. She weakly raised her arms to help, and he drank in the sight of her nearly- bare body in the warm glow of the lamplight.

She had changed a little over the years, which was to be expected. Her breasts were fuller, and her stomach was softer than it had been when they were teenagers. The small amount of added weight was far from off- putting for him, though. While Hermione had the lean, sculpted body of youth as a teen, she now had the soft curves of a woman- the tuck of her waist and the bow of her hip fit his hand perfectly as he held them, seemingly made for him to hold. Hermione was still very fit for a mother nearing her thirties, and Blaise felt a swell of pride. His woman was beautiful.

In the dim light, Blaise traced the silvery scars that lined parts of her stomach, the battle scars that came from carrying a child. One of his hands dragged over the scars reverently, as the other cupped her right breast; it was warm and heavy in his hand, filling it perfectly. As his thumb tweaked over her nipple, Hermione made a low, keening sound in her throat.

"Please, Blaise, please." She begged into his neck, arching her back a little. "Quit teasing, I can't take it!"

Chucking lowly, Blaise discontinued his exploration of her body and slid one rough- fingered hand into her underwear. His thumb immediately began playing with her clitoris, rubbing the nub in a quick, circular motion he knew would drive her wild. As his lips descended on her left breast, gently kissing the swelled flesh, a finger entered her tight channel, followed by another. They stretched her, and the tiny prick of pain had Hermione crying out in ecstasy. As his fingers stroked her inside, his other hand pinched her nipple; Hermione let out small mewing sound that drove Blaise wild.

While his hands and mouth played her like an instrument, Blaise watched for the little tell signs that would signify her impending climax. Seeing several, he sped up the thrusting of his fingers, tearing a half- sob, half scream from Hermione's throat. A moment later, Hermione's back arches as she came, chanting Blaise's name like a prayer.

After giving her a few minutes to recover, Blaise hoisted Hermione's boneless body into his arms. Collecting her clothing and his t-shirt from the railing of the balcony. He settled her into the bed in her room, and re- dressed her in her night gown. She lay back on the crisp white sheets, and he admired her dark, curly hair as it spread across her pillow.

Climbing into the bed behind her, Blaise settled his arm over her waist, drawing her back against his chest. She snuggled into his embrace, already half asleep. "Blaise?" she whispered sleepily.

"Yes, Hermione?" he asked, settling in for the night.

"Thank you." She whispered. "Sleep well."

"You too, _cara_." He replied, kissing the back of her hair.

Before long, both inhabitants of the bed succumbed to sleep, their drowsy breathing joining the lazy drone of the cicadas in the trees.

~(o)~

"Alexander, don't make me repeat myself!" Blaise called to his son, who was swimming around in the sea water. "I don't want you going out that far if no one is with you."

"Someone _would_ be with me if you and Mother came and swam!" The boy called back, reluctantly wading towards the shallower water. His mood instantly brightened when he discovered the fun of body- surfing in the waves. Blaise smiled, remembering doing the exact same thing when he was a boy.

"Thanks." Said Hermione from the towel beside him. "I know I worry too much, but it's better safe than sorry." After accepting a brief kiss from Blaise, she turned back to her book on ECES. Much of the information was both helpful and interesting; Hermione wished she had discovered the book years ago- it would have made raising Xander a lot easier.

Although Hermione's eyes had returned to the pages of her book, her mind had drifted elsewhere. Early that morning, Xander had burst into her room, only to discover both of his parents, both still groggy from sleep. For a long second, the three of them had simply watched each other, barely breathing.

Then, in a moment of maturity that made Hermione want to beam with pride, Xander had nodded slowly, obviously still thinking over the situation. After all, it wasn't every day that he found his father and mother in the same bed, and it took a little while for the idea to sink in.

"Does this mean you guys love each other?" asked the boy. "Because that's what they told us in school. When two people sleep in the same bed, it means they love each other, although they're usually supposed to be married."

After a quick glance between them, they both nodded. "Your father and I are going to be together now, Xander. Is that okay with you?" Hermione asked cautiously. Mentally, she was much less composed. 'So much for breaking it to him gently.' She thought dazedly.

"Yeah, I think that's all right." Replied their son after some thought. "Even if you're not married."

Hermione suppressed laughter. The simplistic, fairy- tale way her son saw love was a little funny.

"Was there something you wanted to say, Alexander?" asked Blaise cautiously, still shocked at their eight- year- old's acceptance.

"Oh, yeah." The boy agreed. "Mother, when are we going to the beach? The sun is even up, and Rosa says breakfast is ready. At least, I think that's what she said."

"We'll be down in a moment, darling." Said Hermione, smiling.

After one last glance at his parents, Xander turned on his heel and headed downstairs, leaving the bedroom door wide open.

"Well, that went better than I thought it would." Whispered Blaise, careful not to let his words carry towards young ears.

"It probably wouldn't have gone as well if we didn't re- dress last night." Hermione whispered back. "I think that might have scarred him for life."

Blaise nodded in agreement. "Wouldn't want that. So, where do we go from here?"

"I guess we should just take things slow. Short kisses, hugs, that sort of thing. Even if we do have his- his _approval_, he's probably still processing. So…yeah, take things slow." Hermione mused. "I need to take a shower. Go eat breakfast with him like nothing is weird. We probably shouldn't let him stew over this for too long."

"Well I need to take a shower, too." said Blaise. "_You_ go down there and face our son."

"No, _you_." Hermione insisted in a _sotto voice_.

"_You_." Shot back Blaise.

What followed was a rather intense argument over who got to shower, and who had to face Xadner. It was, of course, entirely done in whisper- yells, and had a lot of excessive hand gestures. In the end, Blaise was grudgingly sent downstairs while Hermione dashed into the bathroom.

An hour later, Xander stood at the back door, anxiously hopping from foot to foot. Clothed in swim trunks and carrying a bucket of plastic beach toys, his eagerness had both parents scrambling after him on the white sand of the Zabini's private stretch of beach.

"Mother, I'm hungry." Said Xander, jogging Hermione's mind back to the present. He stood over her, dripping drops of cool sea water on her sun- warmed skin.

"Xander, you're dripping on me!" said Hermione, leaning away from him on her towel. With a sudden, wicked smile, Xander began to shake his whole body, splattering her with ocean water. He even shook his dark, wet hair, his motions not unlike that of a dog.

Laughing along with her son, Hermione squealed for him to stop. A second or two later, he did, grinning impishly. "Sorry, Mother. You looked a little too warm, so I decided to cool you off."

Huffing, Hermione tugged her son down on her towel with her. She reached behind her, dragging a large basket next to them. "Let's see what Rosa packed us for lunch, hmm?"

She withdrew several items from the picnic basket, and handed them to Xander. He spread them out on the towel, peeking inside the wax paper to see what yummy Italian treats were inside.

Blaise, setting his own book aside, began to unwrap the food, naming the dishes foods as he went. "Sicilian _bruschetta_ on home-made bread, potato salad with Italian sausage, eggplant _caponata_, and fruit tart. Not bad for a picnic lunch, if you ask me."

Hermione finished unpacking the drinks, eating utensils, and- she snorted- hand embroidered, linen napkins. The three quickly dug into the undeniably Italian lunch, savoring the rich tastes; a far cry from England's hearty, but sometimes bland fare.

As Blaise doled out the fruit tart, putting globs of whipped cream on top, he casually said, "I thought we might go meet my family tomorrow. They live a few towns over, but we could definitely apparate there without any trouble."

Hermione's frowned. "Your family? I thought your mother was an only child?" she asked.

"She is, but my maternal grandfather had several siblings, and they all had children of their own. I've only met some of my cousins a few times, but they're decent company. Besides, they've all expressed the desire to meet Alexander. If I remember correctly, some of them have children near his age."

Hermione swallowed the automatic urge to reject the idea. "I suppose that might be nice."

"I'll owl them in a bit then, to say that we're coming. Remind me to look up a translation spell later, so you two can understand some of what they're saying."

Apparently having grown tired with the conversation, Xander padded his way closer to the water and began to start a sand castle in the damp sand. Unlike other children, Hermione saw him scribbling out dimensions and volume conversions off to the side, planning out the structure before he began. She vaguely wondered what it would be like to have a 'normal' child, but quickly dismissed the idea. He may not fit the mold of his peers, but he fit her just fine.

"I was thinking you and I could go out tonight." Murmured Blaise from beside her. "Alexander is going to be worn out from his day in the waves, and I know there's a rather popular little place in the muggle town further along the beach." He gestured to their left, where Hermione could just make out the shape of tiny homes perched above the sea. "They have dancing and good food. What do you say?"

Hermione contemplated the offer briefly before agreeing. "What the hell- I'm on vacation. We can leave after Xander falls asleep, okay?" Blaise nodded, and began packing the remnants of their lunch back into the picnic basket.

"I noticed earlier that Xander has a scar along the left side of his rib cage." Blaise mentioned. "Where'd he get that?"

"Let's see," Hermione mused. "I suppose that one would come from his broomstick accident last spring. He and Teddy Lupin thought it would be a brilliant idea to take one of the old pair of Cleansweep Six's out of the Weasley's shed. Anyway, those things are positively ancient- made in the 60's, I think- so they're hardly reliable anymore."

Hermione paused, letting out a breath that was half amusement, half exasperation. "So after they'd been flying got a bit, Teddy's boom started slowly inching higher and higher, and they can't get it to come back down. Xander gets right underneath him, and they somehow manage to both get onto his broom. Mind you, they're both barely seven at this point, so they're quite proud of this, but the added weight eventually had them dive- bombing into the Weasley's orchard, and get stuck in an apple tree. They both got scratched up pretty badly, and by the time Molly managed to un-tangled them from the tree's limbs, Xander's scratch on the side of his chest had already healed itself. Accidental magic, I suppose. It healed fine, but it left a scar. I offered to take him to Mungo's to get it removed, but Teddy kept telling him 'birds dig scars, mate'-I'm pretty sure he got that phrase from Harry- so Xander insisted he keep it. Stupid, but harmless enough I suppose."

Blaise was chuckling heartily by the time she finished her recounting of the event. "For some reason, I get the feeling Teddy Lupin is the cause behind a great number of Alexander's harebrained adventures."

"Oh, don't even get me started." Laughed Hermione. "One time, the boys decided they were going to try and de- gnome the Weasley's garden, once and for all. So they snuck into Fred and George's old room, and…" Hermione continued to tell Blaise of Xander's more wild stunts, including the time they had stolen all of Fleur's beauty potions to try on the Potter's cat.

There was also the plot to invent a never- ending ice cream cone, and the time they scaled half- way up the side of the Hogwarts main greenhouse before Neville discovered their 'inappropriate use of Devil's snare'. There was the proposal to run away and live in Godrick's Hollow, and the practice of slipping various Weasley's Wizard Weezes potions into Seamus' date's drinks.

As Hermione spoke, she couldn't help but notice how many of the incidents ended in the boys lying in the Hogwart's Hospital Wing, or with Hermione casting several healing charms on them before they could move without pain. True, very few of the incidents resulted in any scars, but the sheer number of medical spells was a little staggering. Perhaps it was time she sat the two boys down and _really_ talked to them about the risks of their schemes, instead of just grounding them like she normally did.

Before long, Xander interrupted the story- telling session. "Father, come see my sandcastle!" He shouted, and Hermione smiled as she looked at the symmetrical sides of the sand structure. Blaise heaved himself to his feet, ambling over to the sandcastle. Hermione quickly reached into her bag and pulled out a wizarding camera, which she had borrowed from Luna before they left England.

After taking a snapshot of the scene, which showed Blaise and Xander digging in the sand, creating a moat, she stowed away the camera. Picking up her book again, she lay back on her towel and relaxed in the hot Italian sun.

'Now _this_,' she thought, 'is a vacation.'

~(o)~

When Blaise apparated them into the side alley in the town, Hermione gasped. Across from the alley, lit up in hundreds of tiny electric bulbs, was a sign that read "_Notte Stella Osteria_". The extravagant sign seemed a bit out of place in the otherwise quiet street, but the sounds of laughter, music, and conversation drifted out the open doors, providing a welcoming feel. Blaise, dressed in dark wash jeans and a tight- fitting muscle tee, strolled ahead of her. She was dressed in a well- fitted black dress, paired with silver bangles that clinked lightly around her wrists. Her heels, several inches tall, had her confidence levels soaring.

"Translated, it's the 'Night Star Bar'." Said Blaise as he led them out of the alley.

As Hermione and Blaise made their way through the establishment, she looked around. The bar consisted of one large, main room. The center of the room was dominated by a large dance floor, where a large crowd of people were dancing together to some fast, Latin- sounding music. A couple of small tables surrounded the dance floor, and a long bar was set against the back wall. Booths lined the other walls, the attached lamps lit the room with a warm, golden glow.

The place was well- filled, people out to enjoy their evenings. The smooth sound of Italian speech filled the air, along with the cheers and groans of people sitting on bar stools, watching a soccer game on the telly.

"Do you want to dance?" asked Blaise, raising his voice a little to be heard above the hubbub of sound. Hermione smiled and nodded, allowing Blaise to tug her onto the dance floor.

'Music is sort of a universal language' Hermione thought as she twisted and twirled. 'Even though most of the people here are don't speak English, and they're not magical, we can all enjoy this.' As she begins to properly feel the full beat of the music, she was reminded of how much she enjoyed dancing, especially with Blaise. They had gone dancing several time as teens, to both magical and muggle clubs. The nostalgic thought made her smile.

After Blaise and Hermione had been dancing for about an hour, Hermione leaned towards his ear. "I think I need to take a break." She said, and he nodded, taking her hand.

Blaise's tall frame had people moving out of their way as they exited the dance floor. A group had just left one of the well- occupied booths, and they slid into either side. "Do you want a drink?" asked Blaise.

"Yeah, a rum and coke would be good, with extra lime. Do you have muggle money?" she asked.

Blaise nodded. "I'll go grab some drinks," he said. "Stay right here, and I'll be back in a second."

The song ended just as he moved away, and the DJ put on a slow, sensual song with a beat that she could feel in her chest. There was an immediate rush to the bar, and the crowd swallowed up Blaise's form before long. Hermione resigned herself to a long wait, and began to look around the bar.

As she looked around, she made eye contact with a man across the room. He looked to be in his mid- thirties, with straw- colored hair and dull blue eyes. He sat alone at one of the tables, and smiled at her. She gave a polite smile back before turning away. She flipped through the drink menu that sat on the booth's table, idly staring at the typed Italian words.

When something touched her elbow, Hermione turned her head around. It was the same man as before, and he was standing rather close to the end of the bench.

"_Ciao, bella. Posso offrirti da bere?_" he asked.

"I'm sorry, I don't speak Italian." Replied Hermione, smiling thinly.

"Ah, you are from the England, yes?" he asked in broken English. He leaned in towards her a little, and Hermione subtly leaned back, reminding herself that the 'personal space' distance varied in other cultures.

"Yes, here on holiday." Hermione answered, wishing he would go away. Something about the man made her uncomfortable.

"Ah, and you have no one to see you the sights? I show you very pretty places, yes?" he asked.

Hermione began to reply that her boyfriend was more than capable of showing her around, when he leaned forward, touching the side of her face. She happened to be looking into his eyes at that moment, when the strangest thing happened.

Where she had felt rather uneasy before, she was now greatly intrigued by the man. Gesturing in to the seat across from her, she asked him to sit. 'But that's Blaise's seat.' Insisted a quiet voice in her mind. Hermione quickly shushed the voice. She didn't want to think about Blaise right now, not when she had such an interesting, handsome man talking to her.

'Handsome?' spoke the voice again. But looking more closely, Hermione realized he _was_ rather handsome. While the bland, straw color of his hair had previously been dull and a little stringy, Hermione now realized it had rather fetching streaks of gold. But as she tried to focus on the golden color, it kept moving around, disallowing her concentration. But the golden hue hardly mattered, Hermione mused, because he had such beautiful eyes to look at.

Again, Hermione dreamily realized she had misjudged the color. Originally, they were a strange, pale blue, but now they were a striking blue- green, with flecks of gold. How fetching. The previously irritating voice in her head was beginning to fade, smothered out by a deep fog in her mind.

"So what your name, _bella_?" his voice, Hermione realized, was smooth as silk.

"My name isn't Bella," giggled Hermione. "It's Hermione."

"Ah, beautiful Hermione." The man repeated. "And you are here on holiday, you say? Where are you staying?"

"At a house." Said Hermione. "It's quite near the beach, and it has blue walls."

The man smiled and laughed, although Hermione couldn't figure out what was funny. She laughed along anyway, listening to the mixing of their voices. Such a pretty sound…

"And could you take me there?" the man asked, drawing a long, lazy finger over her arm. Hermione shuddered delicately, goose flesh popping up in its wake. She noticed that the fingernail had a bit of dirt under it, and the sight jarred her mind for a moment. She remembered that Xander was back at the house by the beach, and surely she shouldn't take this man near him. Not while her baby was sleeping.

Hermione shook her head as the fog descended again. "No, but you could show me your house." She said, cocking her head to the side.

The man nodded. "Okay, I'll take you to my house, pretty Hermione."

Hermione blushed at the compliment, and he began to play with the silver bangles around her wrists. They made a pretty clinking noise that she rather liked. His eyes danced as he looked at her, and Hermione fought a blush. As his crooked smile grew, and she knew she had failed.

"I must be saying, you look absolutely stunning in that dress." He complimented. "Ah, and there's the blush again…tell me, how far down does it spread?" His voice was seductive, and Hermione couldn't help but lean towards him, hypnotized by his eyes, his voice, his scent.

'Resistance is futile' she mused dreamily, as she continued their conversation. 'Merlin, this man is gorgeous.' Her mind drifted dizzily, and she was only vaguely surprised when he slipped into her side of the booth.

"What do you think?" he murmured into her ear, his hot breath spreading along the curve of her neck. "Do you think I'll get to find out of that rosy blush extends over your neck? Your breasts? The long line of smooth skin along your stomach? Lower?" Hermione's breath was coming fast, now, quiet pants. "What do you say we get out of here, darling?"

"I say she's not interested." Blaise suddenly snarled as he yanked the other man out of the seat beside her. Hermione's mind immediately began to clear, and a cold, sinking feeling was beginning to spread in the pit of her stomach.

'Oh god,' she thought suddenly, 'what have I done?'

Looking at the table, she saw two drinks. One was a beer, the other rum and coke, with a lime wedge on the rim of the glass. 'I drink rum and coke.' Hermione thought. Wait, hadn't Blaise gone and gotten her one? Before that man came up and started talking to her…the reality of the situation came rushing back, and Hermione froze in horror. She had been planning to go somewhere with this man. A stranger, who had somehow managed to talk her into going off to an undisclosed location with him, alone.

Blaise's motion had gathered the attention of a few people around them, but most of the pub was undisturbed. Those who did see were only vaguely interested. They had seen this picture before: boyfriend goes off to buy drinks, leaving his attractive girlfriend behind, who is inevitably hit on by another man. Boyfriend comes back, and eventually kicks the other man to the curb, or gets thrown out by the bouncer.

However, Blaise deviated from their scripts. Gruffly telling Hermione to follow him, he dragged the other man behind him through the bar instead of throwing any punches. Reaching the front doors, Blaise shoved the other man out ahead of him, following directly afterword.

This routine continues until all three are inside the alley across the street. Hermione started to feel a little nervous as her mind rapidly processed what had happened inside _Notte Stella Osteria_. The man obviously did something to alter her mental patterns, but she hadn't been eating or drinking anything at the time. Perhaps he had slyly gotten her to inhale something when he touched her face?

Or perhaps he wasn't working by muggle means, she realized quickly. The thought is jarring in such an undeniably muggle setting, but it wouldn't be _that_ unusual. There are plenty of wizards in Italy, and perhaps she and Blaise weren't the only magical beings in the pub.

Before she could stop him, Blaise fired several spells in rapid order. "_Expelliarmus_! _Incarcerous_! _Silencio_! _Expecto Patronum_!"

As a wand flew away from the other man, Hermione realized her suspicions were right. This realization was followed by the sight of the other man being tightly by invisible ropes as his yells of outrage were silenced. Finally, Blaise's patronus, an eagle, shot out of his wand. The bird circled one- twice- before flying rapidly into the distance.

"Who did you send a message to?" asked Hermione, regaining her wits. She was a strong, intelligent woman…although her utter vulnerability moments before were a direct contradiction. The thought was unsettling.

"The Italian Ministry of Magic." Replied Blaise, his voice displaying a barely- contained fury. "This _strisciamento_ is using a banned potion, Amore Sconosciuto. One spreads it over the skin- usually their hands- and it dulls the senses of anyone they touch. In England, it's categorized as a variation of Amortentia, and strictly black- market. Here, it's very closely regulated. If a person is caught using it, especially on muggles like _this _one was planning to, the ministry is allowed to mentally search for any evidence of the crime. I just sent the patronus so the aurors can come pick this scumbag up."

Hermione nodded, avoiding eye- contact with the wizard twitching around on the ground. "Can we go, now?" Hermione asked, trying to shake off the feeling of weakness that had taken over.

Blaise looked up from where he had been glaring at the wizard on the ground. Red and green sparks were shooting out of the tip of his wand, betraying his inner rage. "Of course." He nodded, looking at the other man again.

"Perhaps you should go ahead." He said after a moment. "I can stick around and make sure the aurors find him."

Hermione shuddered. "Blaise, we both know they'll find him easily. We also know you have a rather extensive knowledge of dark curses." Although the other man was scum, Hermione didn't feel right, leaving him here at Blaise's non- existent mercy.

"I also have a rather fantastic ability to find loopholes, thus allowing for near-legal impunity." Blaise added, smirking.

Hermione laughed a little. "Let's go." She said, apparating them back to the house.

While they quietly crept up the stairs to the second story, Blaise and Hermione whisper- yelled over sleeping quarters. "My bed is bigger." Blaise argued.

"But all my things are in my room, and that's the first place Xander will come looking for me if he has a nightmare." Hermione argued back.

"Just _accio_ your things, and we'll leave the door to my room cracked." Blaise said. "Xander will come in if he sees the door is open."

Hermione sighed, and relented. "Fine. I swear, you argue just like a bloody lawyer."

Hermione used Blaise's shower for a quick scrub, wanting to get the smell of cigarette smoke out of her hair. She also wanted to scrub off the feel of that creep off her body, especially on her arms. After lathering up several times, Hermione finally felt clean again, and stepped out of the shower.

After throwing on her night gown, she padded into the master bedroom, where Blaise was already changed and flopped over on the bed. Glancing at the clock, Hermione noted it was a little after 2 a.m.

Without a word, Hermione and Blaise settled in for the night. Hermione's head rested on Blaise's shoulder, and his arm wrapped around her back, playing with her damp hair. With a flick of his wand he extinguished the lights.

Laying in the darkness, Hermione listened to Blaise's breathing. It was too fast for him to be sleeping.

"Blaise, are you okay?" Hermione asked, her voice soft in the shadowy room.

"More or less, _cara_." Blaise said. "For a moment, there, I thought I might _Avada_ him, seeing his hands on you."

"Blaise, I'm so sorry." Hermione whispered.

Blaise sighed, a weary noise that seemed to come from the center of his soul. "It's alright now, darling." He comforted, squeezing her a little tighter. "You didn't know. Tonight taught me something, though."

"What's that?" inquired Hermione.

"Jealousy is a very powerful emotion, one we both seem to be afflicted with."

"It is, and we are." Agreed Hermione. "It's something we'll have to work on."

Blaise made a noise of agreement in the back of his throat, his breathing starting to even out as he was lulled to sleep. A moment later, Hermione followed, letting her body drift into slumber.

* * *

><p><em>Translations:<em>

"_Tu sciocco, cara ragazza__" _(Italian)

-Comment made by Blaise to Hermione; You silly, sweet girl.

_"Mi raccomando! _... C_ontinuare a fare questo_, _anima mia_, _si_." (Italian)

-Comments made by Blaise; I beg you!...Keep doing that, my soul, yes.

"eggplant _caponata" _(Italian)

-Ridiculously delicious Italian dish with eggplant, onion, peppers, and pine nuts

"_Bella_" (Italian)

-Term of endearment for females; Beautiful

_"Cara"_(Italian)

-Term of endearment; dear, darling

"_Ciao, bella. Posso offrirti da bere_" (Italian)

-"Hello, beautiful. Can I buy you a drink?"

"S_trisciamento_" (Italian)

-Derogatory word or title; creep

* * *

><p>Chapter Fourteen Author's Note:<p>

Did the lemon scare anyone off? Let me know in a review!

Gotbooks93


	15. FIFTEEN

**Time's Up by Gotbooks93**

**Summary: **_After successfully hiding the existence of her son for eight years, Hermione is out of luck and time. When the father of her child discovers her secret, their quiet worlds are changed forever. Join Hermione as she takes on the challenges of co-parenting, snake charming, and a crazy little thing called 'love'._

_**Disclaimer: I own many things, but not any recognizable characters, things, or places in the Harry Potter series. Somehow, I doubt that JKR would agree to joint custody…shame, that.**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>CHAPTER FIFTEEN<strong>_

Although it was only five hours after she had laid down to sleep, Hermione woke feeling fully refreshed. Lying in Blaise's bed, she attempted to stretch the sleep from her muscles, only to be hindered by her bed mate. Blaise's body spooned her from the back, his arm roped around her waist, and a leg was thrown over both of hers. His face was buried in her hair, and she could hear his quiet snores in her ear. At some point during the night, they had completely disregarded the sheets and blankets, which were wadded up at the foot of the bed.

Hermione began to slowly wiggle out from his grip, only to be re- captured. Blaise's arm shot out and gripped her waist, tugging her back against his body. She had been in this position before, she recalled fondly. On the seldom occasions when they had wound up in the same sleeping quarters in Hogwarts, Hermione had become well- versed in Blaise's nighttime antics. He tended to smother her a little in his sleep, and often laughed out, loudly, during his slumber. Hermione had teased him mercilessly when they were younger, halfway sure they were signs of a serial killer.

As he pulled her back against him, Hermione stiffened up a little. There, newly pressed against her bum, was the morning manifestation of Blaise's desire. For a moment, she considered giving him a 'special' wake- up. It could potentially end in great fun for both of them, and was sure to put him in a good mood for the rest of the day. Considering their agenda for the day, it might come in handy. Was sleep a better alternative than sex? This question was clearly answered, however, when Blaise gave a deep, contented snore into her ear. 'Best let him sleep, then.' She thought, taking the snore as a sign.

Ten minutes later, Hermione had extracted herself from Blaise's limbs, and dressed in muggle work- out clothes, her hair up in a ponytail. She had a goal in mind. After drawing the curtains across the seven o'clock sun, she slipped out of the room, closing the door softly behind her. In the hallway, Hermione thought she could hear Rosa puttering around downstairs, the quiet clank of pans giving her away.

Walking down the hall, Hermione opened the door to Xander's room. As usual, her son was sprawled out across his bed, with Selena wrapped around his calf. As usual, Hermione wasn't entirely sure if the serpent was asleep or not.

Creeping carefully around the snake- wrapped limb, Hermione sat down on the edge of the bed, smoothing Xander's hair out of his face. After a few grumbled complaints and pleas, she managed to get him out of bed and into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt.

She ended up carrying her half- asleep son down the stairs, past a curious Rosa and the beginnings of breakfast. As they entered the brightening sunshine outside, Xander came into full consciousness.

Lifting his head from her shoulder, he squinted at her. "Mother, it's early. What are we doing?"

"I think a morning by the water would be a good place and time to start your meditation exercises." Hermione said as she sat him down in the sand.

After arranging themselves, Hermione and Xander sat cross-legged, facing each other. Selena, who had come along for the ride, slowly slithered up his body.

"How do we start?" whispered Xander, the quiet background automatically making him lower his voice. He closed his eyes and placed a hand on each knee.

'He looks like a little, curly- haired, Italian Buddha.' Thought Hermione, amused. She then began talking them both through the appropriate breathing exercises, drawing on knowledge she had read and what Seth had told her.

After a few minutes of breathing, listening to the water lap the shore, and 'quiet thoughts' Hermione cracked open one eye. Xander's shoulders had drooped a little, and his thin chest rose and fell with his measured breaths. As usual, Selena was loosely wound around his neck, her body swaying in time with Xander's breathing.

She closed her eyes again, and let herself fall back into that peaceful, mindless cycle of breaths. As she breathed, Hermione could have sworn she felt serene waves of magic brush against her crossed legs. But whenever she tried to focus on the feeling, it slipped away. She decided to count the sensation as a sign of success, and reminded herself to owl Seth with the news.

When the sunlight had turned her eyelids a brilliant red, Hermione opened her eyes again. Xander's still swayed slightly, although Selena had abandoned her post at his neck for the hot sand.

"Xander?" she asked, keeping her voice near a whisper. It could barely be heard over the sound of the ocean, but his eyes drifted open lazily.

"Hmm?" He asked, his swaying slowly coming to a stop as he re- entered full consciousness.

"How do you feel?" Asked Hermione, continuing her gentle tone.

"Nice." Said Xander with a small smile. Looking around lazily, he noticed Selena on the sand next to him. Gently stroking her scales, Hermione noticed her body start for a second, as if she were caught off guard. She immediately relaxed, however, as Xander continued to run a finger over her scales.

"Darling, how do you know when she's asleep?" asked Hermione.

"Well, I can usually tell when she did that tense thing, like just now." He said. "And her tongue doesn't move around as much when she's asleep…Speaking of sleep, Mother, where did you sleep last night? I woke up for a few minutes and didn't see your light on in your room."

Hermione shifted in place, forming her words carefully. "I was in your father's room." She answered.

Xander was quiet for a minute. "Does that mean you're going to go stay at Father's house when we go back to England?" he asked.

Hermione immediately sensed the unspoken question that accompanied it. "If I do, you'll come with us." She was quick to reassure. "No matter what happens Alexander, you'll always be my number one person. You know that right?"

Xander looked at her hard. Then, he nodded steadily. "Because Mothers always love their kids, right?"

"Always, darling." Hermione's heart ached at the look on her child's face. She was relieved when he turned back to Selena, apparently reassured.

"Father says we're all going to be a family." Xander continued. "A _proper_ family."

Hermione paused a little at his emphasis on 'proper' "Well, I mean, we won't be quite like other families. You'll still live with me most of the time, and your father will live at his house." Hermione said carefully, "But we're still a family."

"No, Mother." Xander said with emphasis. "Father said we would be a regular old family now, like my friends have."

Hermione attempted to squash the uneasiness bubbling in her gut. "What do you think he meant by 'proper', my love?"

Xander's hand stopped stroking Selena's scales for a moment before resuming. "I don't know, I suppose." He said, although she got the feeling he was keeping something back.

Hermione wanted to continue to talk about it, but stopped herself. If she kept asking Xander about what Blaise had said, he would be fully aware that something else was going on. Better to just ask Blaise.

"I'm hungry." Xander announced, gathering Selena along one arm. "I'm going to go get breakfast from Rosa." With that, he scuttled off toward the house, leaving Hermione on the beach.

Still, she wondered. 'What did he mean by a _proper_ family?'

~(o)~

For the hundredth time, Hermione smoothed the back of Xander's hair, trying to press down a particularly stubborn cow lick. In front of them was a huge villa, with a large, bronze 'Z' on the front of the house. As the imposing wrought- iron gates swung open to admit them, Hermione got an unobstructed view of the house. Done in classic Venetian architecture, the tall pillars and bright paint of the house decorated all three floors. A large fountain was situated in the middle of the drive, showing two little _fucci_ angles spouting water from pursed lips. When Xander noticed the angel's absolute nudity, Xander looked rather disturbed and hurried ahead a little.

Somewhere close by, she could hear joyful screams of children, possibly from the back of the house. Gorgeous flowers lined the walkway, the product of either loving devotion or well- paid maintenance workers.

As they mounted the stairs leading to the door, it swung open, revealing a house elf in a dark green and gold toga.

"_Saluti, maestro Biagio giovani. Il mio padrone è stata attesa per voi. Inserisci la maggior parte del nobel casa di Zabini._" The elf squeaked out, and Hermione fought a giggle. The smooth sound of Italian sounded strange when spoken by the creature.

The elf stepped out of the doorway, gesturing for them to enter. After doing so, he shut the door. "_Si prega di prendere posto. Il mio padrone sarà con voi in un momento._" The elf suggested, waving them into a stylish sitting room.

They settled onto several pieces of delicate- looking furniture. "What are we waiting for?" Hermione questioned.

Blaise ran a hand over his face exasperatedly. "I was hoping he wouldn't do this, but I should have known better. My mother's uncle, my great- uncle Berlios, is head of the Zabini family. So I'll have to formally present you to him. Shouldn't take more than a moment."

Hermione couldn't help the pricks of nervousness that raced along her skin, thinking of the surely trying day ahead.

"Where is everyone else?" asked Xander.

"Around the back of the house, I expect, by the pool. We'll join them after we finish with my great uncle." Blaise replied, making sure to keep his voice neutral. "Now, before I forget, let me cast the translation charms."

Blaise took out his wand, running through the appropriate motions- a double circle counter- clockwise, then three flicks in quick succession. "It isn't the same as being bi- lingual, of course." He explained. "It should wear off in a couple of hours, and you may hear a slight delay between the Italian words and their English counterparts. But it will do for now."

Pointing his wand at Hermione's ear, he cast the spell. "_Audi verba vera_" he murmured. A moment later, he cast the same spell on Xander, and not a moment too soon. The small house elf re- entered the room.

"My master will see you now." He squeaked. Hermione was caught off- guard by the faint Italian echo, but quickly adjusted. Standing, she followed the elf down a series of turns, eventually ending up on the second floor of the house.

The hallway was lined with frames. Most of the frames were portraits of long- dead Zabini ancestors, who sneered and gossiped with each other as the party passed. Other frames were paintings of various landscapes or still arts, all done in exquisite detail.

At the end of the hall was a set of huge double- doors, made of polished cherry wood. The doors were carved expertly, depicting a garden scene. Platinum handles the side of Hermione's arm were attached.

As she, Blaise, and Xander came within a few feet of the doors, they swung open noiselessly. Inside was a study, with bookcase- lined walls, huge windows, and several comfortable- looking armchairs. In the center of the room was an enormous desk, loaded down with organized stacks of parchment, paperweights, and a rather flamboyant peacock feather. But it was not the desk that had Hermione's attention- it was the man behind it.

As Hermione looked at the man behind the desk, she couldn't help but think of the muggle film "The Godfather". He was a large man, at least double her weight, and tall- although he remained seated as they entered. He had black hair, streaked with grey, and the color of his eyes were the signature Zabini gold. He wore an impeccable three- piece suit despite the warm weather outside.

However, it was neither the hair, nor the suit that made Hermione think of the "The Godfather" film. It was the undeniable aura of power and control that he exuded. Wordlessly, the man gestured at the armchair and chaise lounge in front of his desk. Hermione smoothed her hand over Xander's head in reassurance as she guided him to the chair on the left. She took the one on the right, and Blaise took the middle seat.

"Hermione, Alexander, this is my great Uncle Berlios," Began Blaise, his voice precise, controlled. "Uncle, I'd like to present to you my son, Alexander, and his mother, Hermione."

Hermione watched as the man wordlessly studied Xander, who was doing his best to keep calm. The man took in Xander's curly hear, pale skin, and gold eyes. Obviously satisfied with the boy's undeniable Zabini traits, he smiled. The gesture softened his whole demeanor, and Xander relaxed a little.

"Hello, Alexander. How are you liking Italy?" The man's voice was rough, but easy, and demanded an answer.

"I like it," said Xander, somewhat shyly. "It's much warmer than England. The food here is really good."

This caused Uncle Berlios to erupt in laughter, praising his great nephew. "Blaise, your boy is smart enough to know what he likes, huh?"

Still chuckling, he turned to face Hermione, his face slowly setting into a more serious countenance. Hermione kept her expression neutral, and met his eyes steadily, determined not to be intimidated.

"Hermione Granger." Berlios said slowly, drawing out her name. "I finally get to meet the woman who my niece Elena has been talking _so much_ _about._"

Hermione knew she should be smiling easily, saying 'Good things, I hope!' but something about the man's manner stopped her. "I would hope they were positive remarks," she began, "but somehow I doubt that."

A slow, steady smile slid across the Italian's face. "If you ask me, my dear, it's about time someone put her in her place." He said seriously, "I mean no disrespect, Blaise, but your mother can be quite a…challenge."

Blaise nodded wearily, as if to say 'Don't I know it.'

Berlios chucked before turning back to Hermione. "Well, maybe you'll keep us all on our toes, my dear."

Hermione met his eyes squarely, seeing the warning there: 'I will tolerate you,' the look said, 'but don't mess with my family.'

Hermione bowed her head a little, agreeing with a look. Perhaps today wouldn't be so bad, after all.

* * *

><p><em>Translations:<em>

""_Saluti, maestro Biagio giovani. Il mio padrone è stata attesa per voi. Inserisci la maggior parte del nobel casa di Zabini._" (Italian)

-A greeting from the Zabini house elf to Blaise; Greetings, young Master Blaise. My master has been expecting you. Please enter the most noble house of Zabini.

"_Si prega di prendere posto. Il mio padrone sarà con voi in un momento._" (Italian)

-Continued dialogue from the Zabini house elf; Please take a seat. My master will be with you in a moment.

"_Audi verba vera" _(Latin)

-Translation spell; Hear true words

_"Cara"_(Italian)

-Term of endearment; dear, darling

* * *

><p>Chapter Fifteen Author's Note:<p>

Reviews?

Gotbooks93


	16. SIXTEEN

**Time's Up by Gotbooks93**

**Summary: **_After successfully hiding the existence of her son for eight years, Hermione is out of luck and time. When the father of her child discovers her secret, their quiet worlds are changed forever. Join Hermione as she takes on the challenges of co-parenting, snake charming, and a crazy little thing called 'love'._

_**Disclaimer: I own many things, but not any recognizable characters, things, or places in the Harry Potter series. Somehow, I doubt that JKR would agree to joint custody…shame, that.**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>CHAPTER SIXTEEN<strong>_

Hermione couldn't help but be surprised as she ventured onto the backyard veranda. Blaise lead her out into the bright sunlight, his hand gently pressed into the small of her back. Xander, having already changed into his swimming trunks after they left Uncle Berlios' study, wandered towards some other children who looked around his age. Hermione watched for a moment, but upon seeing the other children stand and greet Xander in a friendly manner, relaxed.

She and Blaise began to head towards an empty table by the pool, occasionally stopping to greet the people they passed. In all honesty, she made little effort to remember any names. The look of thinly veiled disdain they gave her was a reminder: she walked among an almost exclusively pureblood crowd. However, this would likely be the last time she met most of them, and she had learned to shrug off prejudice years ago.

After they were seated, Blaise offered to go get them a small plate of something to eat. It was a little past two in the afternoon, and she was ready for a snack. As he moved across the well- manicured lawn, towards a table of refreshments, Hermione decided to make a game out of her boredom and people-watch.

There were several adults gathered around the long terrace, all chatting casually. The stairs that went down off the veranda lead to a crystal- clear, Olympic- sized swimming pool, which held several people. Small children, protected by the wizarding version of arm floaties, splashed around in the shallows. Several adults were in the pool, as well, bringing the pool's population to around fifteen people.

For a moment, Hermione began to draw the similarities between the Weasley family gatherings and the scene before her. A moment later, though, she noticed the subtle differences.

Whereas normal attire at a Weasley gathering consisted of jeans, t-shirts, and casual robes, the adults lounging in the deck furniture were all extremely well- dressed. The women were wearing the latest fashions- light, colorful sundresses, and floaty skirts, with wraps thrown artfully over their shoulders- and the men were decked out in well- tailored boat shorts, polos, and carefully pressed slacks. They all looked like they had just stepped out of a magazine ad, with perfectly tussled hair and makeup that looked professionally done, even in the bright sunlight.

Furthermore, there was a carefully constructed camaraderie in the air, and polite conversation filled the air. Somewhere, jazz music was playing, adding a sophisticated background noise. At the usual Weasley assembly, there would be at least one mildly heated argument, usually about a lost bet, or Quidditch match. Here, no one raised their voice above a cultured purr, except the children in the pool.

"Mother, watch me dive!" called one blonde- haired child around Xander's age, who looked toward a woman who reclined on a sun chair, working on her tan. The woman waved a dismissive hand, not looking up from her fashion magazine.

"Mother." the little girl whined, still crouched by the edge of the pool, ready to perform. When she received no answer, she called again, petulance lacing her voice. "Mother!"

The woman looked up sharply, a scowl forming on her lips. Opening her mouth to reply, she began sharply. "Antonietta, can't you tell Mummy is busy?"

A third female voice cut the woman off, joining into the conversation. "Toni, don't bother with her. Show me your dive instead."

Hermione's head swiveled to find the speaker, and she vaguely noted that the conversation around the back yard had become a cacophony of hushed whispers, occasionally punctured by a stifled giggle. Hermione was automatically reminded of the girl's bathroom at Hogwarts, full of hurtful gossip and vicious judgments.

Her eyes found a subdued group of people she hadn't noticed before. There were nine of them in all, teenagers ranging from around sixteen to their early twenties. Several of them held bottles of alcohol, and all of them wore blatantly muggle attire- skin tight jeans, graphic tees, and even a pair of Converse high tops. Hermione quickly deduced this collection of young adults were the offspring of the older family, all rebelling from their parent's cultural expectations. Not expected, per se, but not uncommon either.

The girl who had spoken was tall, thin, and blonde, wearing a full- length, white dress. The gauzy material showed the outline of the fire engine red bikini she wore underneath, and the cork wedge heels completed the look. Her long, blonde hair swayed carelessly to her hips, framing a pair of pouty lips and sapphire blue eyes. These eyes were trained on the little girl at the pool, who returned her gaze. Hermione guessed they were sisters, although they must have been at least ten years apart.

Mollified that she had an audience, Toni dove into the pool, creating a little splash. Upon her surfacing, the group of young adults broke into polite applause, to her delight. The older girl winked at her sister, who grinned back before swimming towards the group of children in the shallows; Xander among them. Taking a seat next to Hermione's quiet son, Toni began to question him about England. Her sister, still watching, cut her gaze to Hermione's. Their eyes met, and Hermione gave a little nod. After returning it, the blonde swayed back to her group, casually re-taking her place.

"I see you've met Noemi." Blaise said as he sat down beside her. Handing her a small plate of fruit and cheese, he continued. "The woman on the lounge chair, Natalia, is actually her step mother, and Antonietta is her half-sister. Natalia is a complete failure maternally, but Noemi does a pretty good job raising her. Their father, my cousin, travels frequently and has little time for any of them."

"And the result is Noemi acting out?" asked Hermione lowly.

"Basically, yes. She almost completely rejects her parent's style of living, and is only present because Natalia was bringing Toni whether she liked it or not. She's gotten better over the years, though. Brought her grades back up at Beauxbatons, and is starting to realize there's a world outside hers. Got accepted for the fall semester at Charleston University, in the U.K."

Hermione looked up, surprised. "My alma mater?" she asked, thinking back to those difficult but rewarding years. Upon Blaise's nod, Hermione smiled. "Perhaps I'll have to have a talk with her, then. So, are all these people your family?" she asked.

"Most of them are extended family, yes." Blaise confirmed. "Although there are a few family friends around, catching up on gossip. They'll talk about just about anything…or anyone, really."

"Like me?" asked Hermione wryly. "I can only imagine what they're all saying. A muggleborn witch in their midst, with a child out of wedlock, no less."

Blaise smiled faintly at her. "Trust me dear, every person on this property has had their share of scandal. I suppose it's high time I bring a little excitement into the family, myself. Don't worry, they'll get bored of you and start talking about someone else soon. Judging by the way my cousin Arnoldo is drinking, it won't take long before someone else catches these vultures' attention."

"I thought you said they weren't all bad." Hermione accused softly.

"We're not." A voice suddenly whispered in her ear.

Her long- dormant battle reflexes suddenly surged to the surface, and a moment later Hermione's wand was pressed to the throat of the speaker. A little shocked she still had the agility to do the move; Hermione turned her head a little, looking at who she had almost attacked.

The man to her right had dark, red-brown hair, and soft green eyes. He looked positively delighted to have her wand jabbing into her jugular, grinning madly.

"So you really _are_ a war heroine." He commented happily. "I wasn't sure if that detail had been made up by the gossip mill or if it was true. You know, for someone so small you can move pretty fast."

Hermione blinked once, twice. Withdrawing her wand, she looked around inconspicuously. No one else had noticed her faux pas, thankfully. Beside her, Blaise stood from his chair.

"You should know better than to sneak up on a witch like that, Christian." He chided as they shook hands.

"The witches you've brought around have always been so dull, Blaise." Christian replied, summoning a chair to join them. "How was I supposed to know this one would have some fire?"

Blaise rolled his eyes indulgently, introducing them to each other. "Darling, meet my idiot cousin, Christian. Christian, this is Hermione Granger."

Instead of shaking her offered hand, Christian kissed it, winking roguishly at her. "It's a pleasure to meet the woman who had managed to ensnare my cousin."

Hermione's lips twisted into a small smile, and she gave a laugh. Christian reminded her a little of Fred and George, with his darting eyes and mischievous smile. His wavy, golden hair made the brown of his eyes warm and inviting.

"The pleasure is all mine." She replied.

Introductions out of the way, he got right to the point. Rubbing his hands together briskly, his devious countenance grew. "So, word on the street is you're the provider of Elena's branch's heir."

A little taken aback by the question, Hermione let out an incredulous laugh. "You don't beat around the bush much, do you?" she asked.

A quick shake of the head was her answer. "Not much point in it, if you ask me. One of the greatest parts of inheriting gobs of money? The ability to get away with pretty much ignoring the usual social niceties. So, which one is yours?" he asked, turning towards the pool.

Glancing over, Hermione pointed Xander out. "Alexander is the one in the green shorts on the edge of the pool." She said. At the moment, he was talking about Selena, judging by his hand gestures. While his audience ooh'd and aah'd, his face kept its usual somber attitude.

"Ah, I should have known you two would make such a good looking kid." Christian said, grinning. "He looks a bit serious, though."

"He is," Blaise confirmed. "But I think he fits in with us better than a rambunctious one would. When I first found out about him, I was worried all my time with him would be spent in a Quidditch stadium or at the park. We go there often enough, but he's smart enough to be able to appreciate art and history, too."

"He sounds like a little adult." Christian commented, not unkindly. "Very similar to someone else I know. Hermione, my love, I don't suppose Blaise has told you much about his pre- school days, has he?"

For the next several hours, Christian and Blaise regaled her with stories of their shared misadventures in childhood. By the time the sun was almost set, Hermione's sides ached from her laughter, and she had a firm fondness for Christian. Before long their talk turned to more serious matters, like Italian politics and the stock market.

House elves flitted around the back yard, lighting lamps around the yard and serving a light dinner to its inhabitants. The pool light was switched on, much to the children's glee, and they all rushed back into the aquamarine water. Hermione got Xander to eat a few bites of dinner before releasing him back towards his newfound friends. She was glad to see he had fit so perfectly into the group of his extended family.

Quietly excusing herself, Hermione ventured back into the house, looking for the light coat she had left inside earlier. She was a little worried she would become lost in the maze of corridors, and wondered why anyone would need a house this large, especially considering they owned several other properties as well. The Zabini manor in England was the same style and outline, if she remembered correctly. It wasn't uncommon for old families to have more than one manor house; the Malfoys, for instance, had a second manor house somewhere in France.

Relying on her faint memory of Zabini Manor in England, Hermione managed to locate the coat closet towards the front of the house. Just as she reached for the light garment, she was startled to hear a voice from behind her.

"Excuse me?" The voice asked. Hermione spun around, looking towards the doorway to the closet. Noemi stood in the doorway, her careless grace apparent in the lines in her body. She reminded Hermione of a muggle runway model. If they had both discarded their heels, Hermione suspected the younger woman would still be a bit taller.

"Yes?" Hermione asked, politely. Despite her sudden appearance, Hermione felt very little unease around Noemi.

"You're Hermione Granger, right? You came with Blaise?" she asked.

Hermione nodded as she pulled the coat from its hanger, still looking at Noemi. "And you're Noemi?" she confirmed.

"I am." The girl said. "I was wondering if I could get a quick word with you, if you have a moment."

Remembering her intention to talk to the girl, Hermione readily accepted, following her into the same sitting room as before. They both settled onto the couches, and Noemi warded the doors and window against eavesdroppers.

"Was there something you wanted to talk about?" Hermione asked, trying to encourage the girl to speak.

Noemi nodded steadily, taking a deep breath and letting it out. Steeling her nerves, if Hermione had to guess. "I suppose Blaise has already told you a bit about me." Noemi began. "He's one of the only adults who I can tolerate in this family, and he's encouraged me a lot in the past couple of years. It would have been easy for him to take a place among the rest of these idiots, but instead he went against Elena's wishes and became a lawyer, even though he doesn't need the money. He's really inspired me to work hard, and I probably would have gotten kicked out of school if he didn't step in a couple of times. Kept telling me good grades would help me get out of Italy, like I want." She paused, smiling. The words sounded a little rehearsed, but Hermione suspected Noemi held Blaise on a bit of a pedestal, far above the other adults in the family.

"It's true," Hermione agreed. "Elena was absolutely against Blaise going to law school, but he knew what he wanted, and I always tried to encourage him to go for it."

Noemi nodded quickly. "He used to tell me about you, how smart and brave you are." She said. "And then I found out you guys were back together, and had a kid. At first, I wasn't so sure about your intentions, especially since Alexander was such a surprise. But then I heard Elena screeching about how terrible you were, so I thought we might get along okay."

Hermione smiled, but remained silent, sensing the young woman had more to say. "So I figured, if you were willing to encourage Blaise get to law school, maybe you could encourage me, too. I don't know if Blaise told you, but I got accepted to Charleston University for the fall. Have you heard of it?"

Hermione nodded. "It's my alma mater, actually. I got my mastery in Charms there. I teach at Hogwarts in England."

Noemi looked a little surprised. "I didn't know you were a teacher." She commented. "Anyway, I want to go to Charleston, but both my father and Natalia are dead- set against it. They want me to get married instead, to a banker who spends more time staring at my tits than actually listening to what I'm saying." At this, she scoffed disdainfully, rolling her eyes.

"I'm going anyway, of course, since Toni is getting a little older, and Christian has agreed to check up on her every once in a while. I've already found a flat in London, and I'm almost all signed up for classes. But when Papa finds out I'm going, he'll disown me. And I need two in- country emergency contacts to get into the school, for insurance purposes. Blaise has already agreed to be one, but I don't have any other friends or family in the U.K….would you possibly consider being my other contact?" she looked at Hermione, and she watched as the carefully constructed mask of indifference slide, just a little. The girl was obviously desperate to get away from her family, and Hermione was her last chance.

Smiling, Hermione quickly agreed. "I would love to help. Just owl me the paperwork and I'll fill it out."

At her agreement, Noemi sprang out of her chair, her thin arms coming around Hermione in a brief, fierce hug. Stepping back, she beamed. "Thank you so much. Blaise kept telling me you would say yes, but I wasn't sure. I mean, you don't really know me. Oh, thank you, thank you! Of course, I'd be happy to come watch Alexander if you and Blaise want to go out. And I won't get into any trouble at the university, so you'll never have to come in to see the dean, or anything."

Glad to have encouraged the other girl, Hermione smiled, but a slight worry nagged at the back of her mind. Phrasing her words carefully, Hermione asked, "If you think your parents will disown you, how do you plan to pay for school? Charleston isn't exactly cheap, you know."

"Well, my grades were good enough to get a partial scholarship." Noemi explained. "And I've got a job as a waitress in London, to pay for the rest."

"Where in London?" asked Hermione, a little surprised. She knew the pureblood girl was bound for a rude awakening, starting a job in the service industry. 'Still, she'll learn fast.' Thought Hermione.

"It's in muggle London." Said Noemi. "At a diner called Louise's."

Hermione tried not to grimace. "Noemi, don't take this the wrong way, but are you sure you're able to work with muggles?"

The young woman nodded quickly. "I took some muggle studies classes in school." She said. "And I love muggle watching in our village, especially their fashion and music. Muggles are so creative, I think. I even know how to ride the underground in Florence."

Hermione admitted she girl sounded like she would be better off than others. Her current clothing showed her ability to blend in with muggles, at least. "My parents are muggles." Hermione said. "Perhaps you could come 'round with me the next time I visit, and they can talk to you for a bit."

Noemi smiled excitedly. "Oh, I'd love that." she said. "The only muggles I've really talked to are the ones at the clothing shops, and of course they wouldn't tell me if I said something odd, would they?"

A few minutes later both women left the sitting room, Noemi holding a scrap of parchment with Hermione's floo address written on it. As they made their way through the house, Hermione was mildly impressed to see the physical change in Noemi's expression. The eager, excited girl began to fade, replaced by an aloof, slightly disdainful young adult. Just as they were about to round the last corner, Noemi stopped Hermione with a hand on her arm.

"I don't think Natalia would take it very well if she saw us together." She said. "I can't thank you enough, but I think we better head back separately. I'll owl you, yeah?"

Hermione, understanding completely, nodded. "Wait a minute or so before you come out." She instructed. "I'll be expecting your owl with the paperwork in the next week or so." After giving her a pat on the shoulder, Hermione turned and ventured back outside.

Walking back to where they had been sitting earlier, Hermione spotted Blaise, Christian, and Xander. The later was slumped over, leaning on his father's arm, sleep.

Blaise and Christian's quiet speech faded as she took her seat. "You could have warned me." She grumbled under her breath at Blaise.

He smirked lazily. "And take all the fun out of it?" He said back, "I think not. I suppose you agreed to be her other contact, then?"

Hermione nodded, lacing her fingers through his. "I think she really looks up to you." She said.

Blaise shrugged, saying nothing. The motion jostled Xander a little, and the eight year old stirred. Sitting up sleepily, he looked at them blearily.

"Time to head home?" Hermione asked, looking around. Already, clusters of people had begun to depart. Blaise stood, half- carrying Xander. They made their way through the house again, heading toward the property's gates and apparition point. Just as they reached the front door, Hermione turned at the sound of her name.

Berlios stood to the side of the front hall, gesturing for her to approach him. Looking at Blaise for a minute, she turned and approached the intimidating man.

He bowed his body towards her a little, so they were at the same eye level. "I'm very glad to meet you and your son today." He began in a quiet voice. He smelt like expensive cologne and the musky scent of cigars. "I will also tolerate you and Blaise's interaction with Noemi."

Hermione, her eyes widening, briefly wondered how the man knew. If was his house, though, and perhaps he had alternate ways to keep track of its inhabitants. Knowing Blaise, it didn't surprise her much. "But I warn you: be careful in your interaction with this family." He continued. "Noemi's father is unlikely to care what happens to her after she is disowned. Elena, however, is not so placid. While I will not help her in her actions, I will not hinder her, either."

With that, he straightened, and took one of her hands. Giving it a little pat, he gave a small smile. "The best of luck to you and yours, Hermione Granger." Turning on his heel, he strolled down the darkened hallway that lead deep into the house. Hermione was frozen, rapidly processing his words.

"Hermione?" Blaise called to her, holding his hand out for her to take. She did, and all three of them apparated back to the house by the sea. Hermione was grateful that Blaise side- apparated her. Her mind was elsewhere.

~(o)~

An hour later, Hermione and Blaise climbed into Blaise's oversized bed. Xander, after a quick shower to wash away the chlorine, had been tucked in by his parents, a rare treat.

Swishing the curtains closed, Blaise left one candle burning. For a moment, Hermione contemplated getting intimate before she fell asleep, but realized they were both too tired. They both settled into the deliciously soft mattress, shifting into a comfortable position.

"What did my uncle say, anyway?" asked Blaise as he spooned her from behind.

After hesitating for a moment, Hermione informed him he was aware of their involvement with Noemi's schooling. She mentioned nothing about Elena.

"He must like you." Blaise mused, after yawning widely. "If it had been someone else, I'm sure he would have ordered them to cease and desist."

"What about you?" Hermione asked.

"Uncle Berlios may be head of the family," Blaise answered, "But my mother is only his niece, not his daughter. It allows her quite a bit of freedom, and as her son, I am also granted that freedom."

Hermione nodded, too tired to be truly interested in the hierarchical workings of the pureblood family. For a moment, she considered telling him about Berlios' warning about Elena. Ultimately, she chose to keep the tidbit to herself, but take the cautionary words to heart.

Moments later, they were both asleep, leaving the candle to sputter out in a pool of wax.

~(o)~

_She was back on the battlefield, and spells flew out around her like deadly beams of light. She was tired, and her palms hurt. Shouldn't the battle have ended by now, allowing them to regroup back at Grimmauld Place? The wide, gloomy field was a mix of Death Eaters and Order members fighting._

_Clutching her wand tighter, Hermione shot off a couple of spells, getting more and more aggressive as she attracted more attention. _Protego Horribilis, Sectumsempra, Stupefy, Reducto. _The spells began to string together as she cast them, along with the usual fog that came with fighting during the war. She tried to ignore the bright flashes of green that occasionally came from wands on both sides. Thankfully, the killing curse missed its targets more often than not._

_Then, one didn't miss. Directly to her left, a faceless Order member fell, struck down by an _Avada_. Looking up, she met the half- mad gaze of Bellatrix Lestrange, who had cast her ivory mask aside, revealing her paper- thin skin stretched over hollow cheekbones. _

_After their eyes met, Hermione and Bellatrix were suddenly the only people in the field, and Hermione's hands clutched desperately at the air. Where had her wand gone? Hermione was panicked, looking around desperately for the piece of wood._

_Realizing there was no way for her to fight, Hermione chose flight. She ran desperately for a nearby tree line, zigging and zagging as she dodged spells Bellatrix continued to hurl at her back. Just as Hermione made it to the first trees, Bellatrix suddenly appeared in front of her. _

_Skidding to a stop, Hermione wondered how she had managed to pop up in front of her._

"_Hello, little mudblood." Bellatrix crooned in her twisted voice. "You won't beat me, no matter how hard you try."_

_And then Hermione realized it wasn't Bellatrix standing in the Death Eater cloak, but Elena Zabini. Bellatrix's prison- ravaged face was replaced by Elena's smooth, youthful skin, and tangled, frayed hair was replaced by flowing black locks. _

"_I always get what I want, Hermione." She said, beaming angelically. "And I want you gone, now." She raised her wand pointing it directly at Hermione's frozen form. "_Avada Kedavera._"_

Hermione's own screams woke her, and she sat up suddenly with a jerk. Judging by the crack in the curtains, it was a little before dawn. Her gasps for air were loud in the quiet room, and her palms stung from her nail gouging the skin. Beside her, Blaise stirred.

"Hermione?" he asked, his voice urgent and rough from sleep.

Trying to quiet gasps, Hermione laid back on the bed, nodding even though she knew Blaise couldn't see her.

"I'm fine." She said, cuddling back into his embrace, desperate to regain the sensation of safety his arms provided. "It was just a dream. Just a stupid dream."

* * *

><p>Chapter Sixteen Author's Note:<p>

Next post will be on Monday, the day after Christmas (and on Boxing Day, for some people). Consider it my Christmas gift to you. Happy Christmakwanzakah! I hope you eat good food, enjoy good company, and have a fabulous day. Be safe!

If you wanted, your Christmas gift to me could be a review. Seems fair, no?

Gotbooks93


	17. SEVENTEEN

**Time's Up by Gotbooks93**

**Summary: **_After successfully hiding the existence of her son for eight years, Hermione is out of luck and time. When the father of her child discovers her secret, their quiet worlds are changed forever. Join Hermione as she takes on the challenges of co-parenting, snake charming, and a crazy little thing called 'love'._

_**Disclaimer: I own many things, but not any recognizable characters, things, or places in the Harry Potter series. Somehow, I doubt that JKR would agree to joint custody…shame, that.**_

* * *

><p><strong><em>CHAPTER SEVENTEEN<em>**

Sitting quietly at her desk at Hogwarts, Hermione scratched off another item on her 'To Do' list, titled "Finish Fourth Year's Curriculum". The simple action gave her a vast amount of satisfaction. She had managed to comply with the ministry's standards without making the class an utter bore, not an easy feat.

The next item on her list had several stars and arrows surrounding it, and she realized she couldn't put it off any longer. It wasn't an unpleasant task; Hermione actually found the duty quite enjoyable. However, it tended to be rather draining, both physically and emotionally.

The item was titled "Visit Muggleborn families, Arrange for Diagon Alley trip." As a staff member at Hogwarts, one of her responsibilities was to visit the homes of first- year muggleborn students, and take some of them to Diagon Alley. For the vast majority of them, their magic was a joyous but terrifying revelation. For other families, though, the announcement was unwelcome.

Although Hermione hadn't ever encountered any parents as adamantly against magic as the Dursleys, she had gotten some very negative feedback. Extremely religious families, or those that were firm believers of the muggle sciences, tended to be more reluctant to understand. There was usually at least one student who declined to attend Hogwarts, going to muggle secondary school instead. It was always hard for Hermione to accept the parent's decision, especially when it contradicted with their child's wishes. The idea of a muggleborn student missing out on the wonders of Wizarding society was a hard pill to swallow.

Summoning the small pile of parchments out of her staff cubby, Hermione reached for the list of students she had been assigned for the year. Professor Fenster, Hermione, Neville, and the Headmistress all divvied up the muggleborns for the year, so she only had ten students to visit. The next day was a Friday, perfect to begin the visits.

Looking further down the list, she noted several other things she had to accomplish before the start of the school year in a week and a half. She needed to pick up Xander's supplies for his own school year, give their rooms one last proper cleaning, tweak the sixth year's curriculum, and take Noemi to her parent's house.

The young Zabini had sent the appropriate paperwork to Hermione the day before. Attached was a note detailing her intention to tell her parents about Charleston that week. Hermione's heart went out to the young woman- she suspected the outcome would be unpleasant.

Hermione accomplished several other tasks before she headed for the door to her rooms. Xander stood at the window in the living room, using the evening light outside to read a scroll of parchment. Blaise's owl was perched on the window sill, perfectly still. Personally, Hermione found the noble bird a little creepy, and its razor- sharp talons were intimidating.

"Father wants to know if we can come over to dinner tonight." Xander said distractedly, noticing Hermione's appearance in his peripheral vision. "We're welcome to stay the night, too."

Hermione glanced at the clock on the mantle, weighing their options. Since they had returned from Italy the day before, Hermione found herself wishing Blaise was with them at Hogwarts. The remaining days of their vacation had been fantastic- she had spent the days laying on the hot sun of the beach, reading or playing with Xander. Her nights were equally pleasant, filled with the feel and smell of Blaise. Hermione had been sad to leave the private oasis, although she had a healthy tan for a souvenir.

Pulling herself back to the present, she agreed to Blaise's proposal, sending Xander scurrying off to find parchment and a quill. A positive reply was carried away minutes later, leaving Hermione and Xander to hurriedly pack their respective overnight bags. She couldn't help but notice the skip in Xander's step as he prepared to see his father's house for the first time.

~(o)~

Although the outside structure and surrounding gates were terribly similar to their Italian counterparts, Zabini Manor in England gave off a vastly different vibe. Here, the upstairs windows were thrown open, letting in fresh air and sunshine. The side garden was in full bloom, and birds chirped merrily in the stately trees lining the driveway.

As she and Xander walked down the path, Hermione clasping her son's hand, she let a faint smile tug at the corners of her mouth. Although she had only been to the manor a few times, most of the memories of the place were very dear to her. She and Blaise had spent many days laying in the tree's shade, weaving in and out of the garden paths.

The man in question appeared moments later. Hermione and Xander began to climb the sun- drenched steps that led to the massive front doors when they were thrown open. Blaise stepped into their space.

"Ah, my two favorite people." He greeted, smiling broadly. Hermione couldn't remember the last time he had beamed so fully.

"Father!" said Xander, moving quickly beside him. "Is this really your house?" he asked.

"It is indeed." Blaise confirmed, squatting down so that they were at the same level. "I can't wait to show it all to you. We can go see the Quidditch pitch Uncle Draco and I set up when we were kids, and your room, and-"

"I have a room?" asked Xander excitedly.

Blaise smiled widely again, nodding. "Of course. I've been setting it up. But first, we must collect your mother." At this, he stood back up to his full height, looking at Hermione.

Hermione had paused on a step a few stairs down, just watching her son and his father interact. She swallowed thickly, internally chiding herself for being over- emotional. Still, the ease and love between the two of them was more than she ever imagined.

"Look at her, Alexander." Blaise stage- whispered to their son. "Isn't she the loveliest woman you've ever seen?"

Hermione blushed prettily before stepping into the shade of the house. Looking around the foyer, she looked around as Blaise gathered their bags from her, kissing her cheek in greeting. "It's funny," she mused. "Nothing much seems to have changed in the last nine years…well, except for _that_." The last comment was a bit puzzled in tone as she stared at the foyer's latest addition.

The item in question was a large, square framed piece of artwork, situated on the wall between a pastoral scene and a snoozing Zabini ancestor. She stifled a gasp as she took in the full details of the swirls and straight lines. It was a wizarding painting of the old 'Magic Is Might' monument that once stood in the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic. The real structure had been torn down directly after Voldemort's second fall from power, but the memory of the stone images still made her a bit uneasy. In the painting before her, she could see the twisted, unseemly faces of the muggle men, women, and children, as they struggled under the weight of their burden. The serene but powerful faces of the witch and wizard upon their throne still disgusted her. But why would Blaise have such a terrible memento on the walls of his own home?

Her answer was given when she looked at Blaise's face. He no longer smiled, and a scowl twisted his lips. His fingers gave a sharp snap, and a second crack followed a moment later. The second sound was accompanied by the appearance of a house elf, who bowed lowly in front of Blaise.

"Yes, Master?" the old elf inquired.

"Jeb," Blaise began, his eyes locked on the offensive painting. "Where did that painting come from?"

Jeb turned around, looking. "Ah, Master, the old Mistress Zabini is putting that there while the Master was away." He began. "But she is telling elves to say nothing of it. But the old Mistress is always adding new things to the Master's manor, she is."

"She still does that, then?" Hermione asked, her tone wry. "Re- decorates the house with every tacky thing she can get her hands on?"

Blaise sighed. "I'm afraid so." He said, "Normally I find it at least vaguely amusing, but this has gone too far. Jeb, I want that thing removed and destroyed immediately. Should it have any sticking charms or jinxes on it, I give you permission to use the full extent of your magic."

Jeb nodded sagely. "Jeb will be taking care of it himself, he will. Is Master ready to introduce all the Zabini elves to Lady Granger and the young master?"

Blaise inhale deeply, letting out the air in a great gust. "I suppose so."

Four 'pop's followed this agreement as new elves apparated into the room. They lined up on the shiny tile of the foyer floor. Jeb was clearly the oldest of the bunch, and took command of the other elves without delay. "I is being Jeb, and this is being Snitch, Carlou, Quin, and Lonnie." He began, looking at Hermione and Xander when he introduced his fellow creatures. She noticed the young female elf, Quinn, had a very large bulge in her toga, and guessed she was heavily pregnant.

Hermione smiled and nodded politely when each elf was introduced, although their focus was clearly centered on Xander. "This is being the young master?" squeaked Lonnie. Hermione suspected she was a female elf, although she admitted it was sometimes hard to tell.

Xander shrugged a little, looking to Blaise. "He is the next Zabini heir, yes." Blaise said, and a string of excited squeaks followed the announcement. "His name is Alexander."

"And this is being Lady Granger." Jeb continued gesturing to Hermione. "She is being the young master's mother."

The elves bowed again, although one on the end , Carlou, didn't bow quite as graciously as his comrades. His small face looked a tad wary. "Lady Granger? Is you being Lady _Hermione_ Granger, the muggleborn witch friend of the great and noble Harry Potter?" he asked.

At first, Hermione thought his tone was due to her heritage. However, as she watched the other elves face's transform into expressions of horror instead of disgust, she grew puzzled. "That's right." She confirmed.

"I is hearing of you from the Hogwarts elves." Carlou continued, looking down at his feet. "They is saying Lady Hermione Granger is trying to give Hogwarts elves _clothes_." The last word was a hiss, and the pregnant elf, Quinn, gave a little cry of dismay.

Hermione cringed. Her reputation seemed to have proceeded her. Although S.P.E.W. was still a cause that was dear to her heart, she had been forced to abandon it years earlier. When she had first begun to teach at Hogwarts, she had re-started her practice of leaving knitted items of clothing around her rooms and office in an effort to free the Hogwarts elves. Professor McGonagall had tried to convince her to cease, to no avail. It was only one day, after weeks of her knitting, that she was forced to admit defeat.

In retaliation to the unwelcome hats, socks, and scarves, the elves had begun to sabotage her meals. Meat was half- cooked, rotten fruit was served, and more than one suspicious- looking glass of milk was set on her table. Hermione suspected the dietary abuse would cease the moment the clothes did, but she persisted. Her only reassurance was that the food served to Xander was always without reproof, fresh and fully cooked. It was several weeks after this war had begun that Xander had snuck several pieces of undercooked meat off her plate; the poor toddler was sick with food poisoning the rest of the night. Unable to bear the guilt, Hermione waved a metaphorical white flag in surrender, and packed away the planted clothing. Their meals returned to their usual, impeccable standards.

Although the incident had occurred half a dozen years prior, elves apparently had very long memories- and discussed these memories with each other. "I'll admit, I am adamantly in favor of elf rights," Hermione began, addressing the obvious unease of the Zabini elves. "but I've learned my lesson. You can't free someone who doesn't want freedom. Is it safe to assume none of you desire freedom?" she asked.

The five elves nodded quickly, their tennis ball sized eyes wide with fear and hope. "Very well," she continued, "then from me, you have nothing to fear." Her announcement spurred a series of relieved- sounding sighs, and much less distrustful expressions. As they popped back out of the room, Xander spoke up.

"Father, is Quin going to have a baby elf?" he asked.

Blaise nodded, walking toward the doorways that lead to the rest of the manor. "She's due any day now, if I'm not mistaken." He confirmed. "Now, I want you to meet two other members of my household, although your mother is already acquainted. Brutus! Duke!"

Brutus and Duke bounded around the corner, their claws scrabbling against the slick tile. Hermione fought the urge to step back as their massive forms came hurtling toward them, reminding herself that the two were gentle giants. . .as long as Blaise liked you.

Obeying a stern command to "sit" from Blaise, the half- Doberman, half- Mastiffs rested their giant heads against Blaise's legs, their tongues lolling out to the sides. Xander, not terribly well acquainted with any dogs besides Fang, shied away a little. After some prompting from his father, though, he was soon enamored with the canine familiars.

Blaise began the tour of the manor, pointing out interesting artwork and guiding them into various rooms. A few memorable pieces of furniture caught her attention, and she recalled numerous times she and Blaise had 'christened' various rooms. While she blushed scarlet, Blaise would catch her eye and grin wickedly at her. Thankfully, Xander was too enamored with his surroundings to notice. Again and again, he would ask for stories of Blaise's childhood, especially now that he could put a setting with the tales. Duke and Brutus continually nudged their noses against his palms, begging to be petted.

After a quiet, informal dinner, the trio settled into the manor's library. Blaise was seated at his over-sized desk- Hermione wondered if giant, wooden desks were a requirement for wealthy pureblood households- while Xander wandered the stacks of books. Hermione meandered over to Blaise's chair, leaning against him. She ran her fingers through his thick, dark locks, gently scratching his scalp with her nails.

"Hmmm that feels good," Blaise said, leaning into her touch. He handed her something a minute later. "Look at this before I forget again."

The item was an envelope, Blaise's name written across the front. Extracting the contents, Hermione realized it was a wedding invitation. It was printed on creamy, thick parchment, the type looking elegant and professional.

_You are formally invited to the impending nuptials of_

_Draco Lucius Malfoy and Amanda Tessa Jones_

_On the Twenty- Second day of November at eleven o'clock in the morning._

_Ceremony will be followed by a reception at one o'clock in the afternoon. Both will occur at Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire, England. Dress is formal._

_Please RSVP by the twenty- second of October via owl._

Hand written in a loopy, girlish script underneath was a postscript from Mandy. It read '_Blaise, __please __bring along Hermione and Xander to the wedding. Draco and I would both be delighted to have them present. If they can attend, please include it in the RSVP! ~M_

Hermione beamed, genuinely touched. While she was hardly Draco Malfoy's biggest fan, she rather liked Mandy. Her down- to earth personality both contrasted and complemented Draco's, and she was anxious to watch them interact.

"That's lovely." Hermione said, settling onto the arm of Blaise's chair, leaning her head against his. "I imagine it will be the wedding of the decade, knowing the Malfoys."

"Hmm, perhaps." Blaise said, and Hermione looked up at him, brows raised. But his eyes were set resolutely on the paperwork in front of him- investment forms, by the look of them.

Attributing his comment to distraction, Hermione rose, going to find a book.

~(o)~

Hermione was having the most wonderful dream. Her body was awash with sensation, and she gave little whimpers and moans of delight as the sensations grew. Trapped somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, she was a slave to her senses. She was unable to truly focus on any one feeling or bit of reality, simply allowing herself to be carried along on the tide of delicious feeling.

Before long, though, she began to truly regain full awareness. The sensations began to emanate directly from the apex of her legs, and she rolled her hips a little as she opened her eyes. Propped on his forearms above her was Blaise, his large hands stroking her upper thighs and the outer lips of her sex. Every few strokes, he would give her throbbing clit relief, flicking his thumb over it with practiced ease. Coaxing her towards the edge of a delicious climax. Upon seeing her eyes open, he adjusted himself over her, gently thrusting his thick manhood into her opening. With each thrust, his body brushed her clit, sending a bolt of pleasure through her body.

Blaise gave a drowsy smile, bending down to kiss her possessively. As he claimed her mouth, Hermione reveled in his dominance over her body. Outside the bedroom, she was fully in control of her life and decisions, and they both knew it. Inside the bedroom, though, she allowed her lover to control her needs and desires. They both reveled in the feeling.

One hand rubbed a tender nipple between two fingers, while another kept a firm grip on her hip. "Your body was made for me, _dolce cuore_." He murmured into her ear, his warm breath sending goose bumps down her neck. He gave another lazy thrust into her welcoming heat, and Hermione rocked her hips, and his toned thighs spread hers even wider, hooking them over the top of his own. He slid even further into her body.

Before long Hermione came with a quiet gasp, Blaise with a moan. In her post-cotial haze, Hermione thought that the feeling of Blaise's body, pulsing strongly within her own, was one of her favorite sensations in the entire world.

~(o)~

Their faces were predictably skeptical. Seated side- by- side on a beige sofa, Mary and Logan Uley were the muggle parents Hermione was currently trying to convince of magic. Their daughter Kylie was already seated in an armchair to their left, looking excited but doubtful.

"Mr. and Mrs. Uley, I know what I'm saying may seem like madness, but I think I can change your mind if you'll allow me to perform a bit of basic magic. If you don't mind, I'll change your sugar bowl into a pin cushion. Rest assured, I can turn it back without delay. May I?" Hermione asked, putting on her best 'I'm- A- Non- Threatening- Professional' face.

After gaining doubtful nods from both muggles, she quickly transfigured the tea tray's sugar bowl into the promised pin cushion, which came complete with several multi- colored pins sticking into it. The transformation gathered shocked gasps from the room's populace, and Kylie burst into applause. Her parents continued to stare at the tray, silent.

Flicking her wand and subsequently changing the item back to its original form, Hermione re- took her seat. She was dressed in all- muggle attire for the day's activities: a heather- gray suit, with a simple pearl necklace as her only jewelry. Although Neville and Professor McGonagall both wore full wizarding dress robes to meet Hogwart's potential pupils, Hermione found that her professional, muggle attire tended to make the muggle- wizard gap easier to bridge.

"So, so this is the sort of thing Kyle will be learning, should he attend this school? Pigwarts?" her mother asked hesitantly, managing to tear her eyes from the sugar bowl.

"Hogwarts," Corrected Hermione easily, smiling genially. "And yes, that was an example of what she'll learn in her Transfiguration class. In her first year, she would also be enrolled in Potions, Herbology, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Astronomy, History of Magic, and Charms, which I teach."

"And are all of the students born to- muggles, was it?- like Kylie?" Her father asked, leaning forward a little.

"We usually have around forty new students per year," Hermione answered, re- sheathing her wand. It appeared that she had convinced the muggle couple that magic did, indeed exist, as did Hogwarts. "Around fifteen of them are from entirely non-magical backgrounds, like Kylie. Once they arrive at Hogwarts, they're sorted into one of four houses. I actually have a few pamphlets that will give you a rather good idea of what to expect…" Pulling the mentioned leaflets out of her satchel, Hermione began to go into detail over the costs, curriculum, and supplies associated with Hogwarts. Before long she had managed to win over the support and confidence of the Uleys, and scheduled a date to collect Kylie and bring her to Diagon Alley for supplies.

Kylie was the last of Hermione's first- years to visit that day, and was overjoyed that she had received all positive responses to her scholastic invitations. Gathering her things, Hermione shook hands with all three family members before exiting the home, making sure not to apparate until she was well out of their sight. Best not to overwhelm the muggles too much, if you asked her.

~(o)~

Hermione's arrival in her parent's back garden was only marked by a faint 'pop', unnoticed by everyone except the neighbor's dog. Winding her way between rose bushes, she slipped in the back door, listening closely. Hearing the faint murmur of voices coming from her father's study, Hermione walked down the hallway, her heals clicking briskly.

Gently pushing open the door, she smiled faintly at what she found. Her father and mother were slouched over in their chairs, looking tired but agreeable. On the leather ottoman opposite them was Noemi, a long roll of parchment draping across her legs and pooling on the floor. Small, precise handwriting covered the page.

"So, these health clinics you were talking about- pharmacies, right?" Noemi was asking. "They give out little bits of hardened medicine, called 'pills' and they're supposed to make you better? But they take a lot longer than magic, right?" She bent over her parchment, writing with a ball point pen. Her strait, pale gold hair spilled over her shoulder, onto the paper.

Noemi's usually detached public persona had dropped, only to be replaced by a clinical, studious tone as she continued to take notes on what Hermione's parents said. As a matter of fact, she was so involved with the information she had failed to notice Hermione's presence in the room. 'If she's the same way in school, she'll be Charleston's star pupil.' Hermione mused proudly.

Early that morning, Noemi had apparently arrived an hour after the sun had risen, snapping orders at the manor's elves. Hermione suspected the teen donned her icy, aloof façade when she was upset or nervous, a coping mechanism she had developed during a life with an absent father and an unloving step- mother. Originally, Hermione had planned to wait for the Ice Queen mask to defrost, but the plan was quickly dismissed. After Noemi shot a scathing comment at Xander, Hermione had dragged the teen into a side room. Quickly nipping the problem in the bud, she explained her behavior was unacceptable. Noemi had quickly dropped the pretense and apologized to both Hermione and Xander.

When she heard Hermione would be venturing outside the manor for the day, she had politely asked to meet Teresa and Thomas, in order to get a better grip on muggle culture. Apparently, the day had yielded fruit, if Noemi's long scroll of information was anything to go by.

As she stepped fully into the room, she glanced up at Hermione, looking surprised. She seemed to become aware of the late evening hour, and sprang from her seat.

"I'm so terribly sorry!" she exclaimed, her tone a little stilted. Although she had cast a translation charm on herself, the English words were still accented. "I did not realize what the time was."

The Doctors Granger smiled in unison, their expressions both welcoming and relieved. "We're glad we could help fill in the blanks." Teresa replied. "I think you'll do fine, though, if you're careful. Please feel free to give us a ring on the phone if you have any more questions."

"Mum, I'm not sure Noemi would know how to use a phone-" Hermione began.

"Oh no, Hermione, your father was kind enough to let me try out several of the muggle appliances, including the telephone, and the macroweave-"

"Microwave." Corrected Thomas.

"Right, microwave, and the telly- vision. It's all quite brilliant, I think. And not at all the way I thought it would look, from what I learned in Muggle Studies."

Hermione smiled faintly, seeing Noemi's passion for the new experiences. "Well, I'm glad you learned so much. But we better be going, we're meeting Xander and Blaise for dinner."

After a quick goodbye, Hermione and Noemi left out the front door, walking down the paved sidewalk in the cool evening air. The sun had set, but the sky was still a lighter shade of blue.

"Your parents are quite lovely." Noemi commented quietly, "I can't help but be a little envious, though. It must have been nice to have people so supportive of you when you were growing up."

Hermione hummed in agreement. "Mum and Dad always asked about how my classes were going, and what new magic I was learning when I was in school. They tried very hard, I think, to understand what it was like to have magic. But at the same time, I don't really think they ever fully understood what it was like for me to be part of a different culture, a different society. I didn't want them to be hurt, or to worry, when the war was going on, so I replaced their memories. Told them they didn't have a daughter, and they moved to Australia. One of the hardest things I ever had to do, and one of the riskiest."

Noemi was quiet, and they continued to walk the streets of the suburb. Sprinklers turned on as they passed, watering lawns and adding a mechanical backdrop of sound. "I won't lie. Plenty of times, I've thought about running away from my father and Natalia." Noemi said suddenly. "They're not horrid, but they're self- centered and have impossible standards. Still, though the idea of them not knowing who I _was_, of just erasing myself from their memories…it might be selfish, but I don't know if I could do that."

Hermione nodded, looking over the neatly mowed lawns and brightly lit windows of the houses around her. "Everyone has their limits." She agreed. "Some of us meet ours earlier than others, and some people can't quite manage to get past the barriers in life, no matter how hard they try."

Again, the silence continued as they walked, and Hermione's mind was back on the hardest days of the war. Seeing friends die before her eyes, and facing the terrible capabilities of humanity had left her mind with too many scars. It had changed them all, and torn apart things that could never be repaired. Yes, they all had their limits.

"Hermione?" asked Noemi. "About limits. Did…did Blaise cross one of yours?"

Shocked, Hermione stopped walking, turning to face Noemi. The other girl's crystal blue eyes met her's dead-on. "I've asked Blaise again and again about what separated the two of you before Alexander was born, and he never tells me. What happened that night? Did he cross one of your limits? What tore you apart?"

* * *

><p><em>Translations:<em>

"_dolce cuore" _(Latin)

-A term of endearment or affection; literally: sweet heart

* * *

><p>Chapter Seventeen Author's Note:<p>

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Gotbooks93


	18. EIGHTEEN

**Time's Up by Gotbooks93**

**Summary: **_After successfully hiding the existence of her son for eight years, Hermione is out of luck and time. When the father of her child discovers her secret, their quiet worlds are changed forever. Join Hermione as she takes on the challenges of co-parenting, snake charming, and a crazy little thing called 'love'._

_**Disclaimer: I own many things, but not any recognizable characters, things, or places in the Harry Potter series. Somehow, I doubt that JKR would agree to joint custody…shame, that.**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>CHAPTER EIGHTEEN<strong>_

Even though her legs felt like they were made of pudding, Hermione forced herself to continue walking. Noemi seemed to struggle with the same affliction, as it took almost a full minute to catch up with her on the sidewalk. At that point, the two witches were nearing the neighborhood park, situated in a little grove of trees; Hermione headed for the spot immediately, craving the nostalgic comfort that came with the area. She and her parents had spent numerous afternoons in the area.

Settling down on a faded green bench, Hermione softly patted the spot next to her. Noemi took the seat, and the park's few electric lanterns switched on a moment later, in an attempt to to combat the growing darkness. The only sounds in the air were far away; a car alarm had gone off a few streets over, and a dog barked in the distance.

"I don't think I would have changed anything, even if I had the chance." Hermione said suddenly, startling both Noemi and herself with her voice. However, she soldiered on, trying to sort her chaotic emotions. "Xander turned out more wonderful than I could have hoped. And while those first few years were hard- _so_ _hard_- when I look back on them now, I can't help but think that they made me stronger.

"But, maybe that's selfish." she continued, "I know, better than anyone, how much Xander wanted to know his dad. I always thought that I was doing fine on my own, that he had everything he needed. Maybe I was wrong." She sighed. "The thing is, when Blaise and I broke up, it was so terribly dramatic. When we were dating, we rarely got into more than a spat. Neither of us wanted to deal with the drama of an on- again, off-again relationship, so we always tried to be logical about our problems. Maybe we would have turned out differently if we had one really good screaming match. Because when you get down to it, humans need to be emotional. I've noticed that sometimes when you _really_ fight with someone, you tend to say things. Things you didn't even realize were bothering you, until you say them."

She paused, glancing at Noemi for the first time. The other girl wasn't looking at her, but instead stared straight forward, her eyes looking sightlessly at the metal equipment in front of them. Her chiseled, pale features were cast in shadow by the orange light of the lanterns, her mouth sloping downwards. Sensing Hermione's eyes on her, she turned her head a little. "What could he have said, though, that made you hide from him?" she asked, her voice a little icy. It occurred to Hermione that Noemi had been a victim of a torn family, herself, and was acting defensively as a result.

She sighed, looking around aimlessly. Her eyes caught on the swing set to their right, and she smiled faintly. "I fell off that set when I was seven." Hermione said, pointing. "I remember what it felt like, even though it was more than twenty years ago. I had managed to swing higher than I ever had before. Then, on impulse, I jumped when I was at the highest point. I couldn't have been more than a dozen feet from the ground, but I remember that moment of weightlessness. My stomach was practically in my throat, and it was almost like I was flying.

"I hit the ground hard," she admitted. "Dad thought I broke my leg, by the way I was screaming. But in reality, it was just because after that moment of chaotic joy, the hard jolt to the ground was such a sudden contrast…and that's kind of how I felt when Blaise and I split up."

"I remember our last day together was a Tuesday, because Molly Weasley always tried to get the Order to eat dinner together on Tuesdays." She said, her voice a little detached. "Back in those days, at the very peak of the war, you could never be too careful. Blaise wasn't a Death Eater, somehow having found a way to slip out of Voldemort's claws, but he was constantly watched. The other Death Eaters were bitter that he had escaped their own imprisonment, and tended to harass him whenever he left the manor. As a result, he ended up being trapped in Zabini manor. It was a gilded cage. I know he would have already left for Italy if it wasn't for me, but I wasn't very sympathetic. In my eyes, he was being a coward, and his refusal to join the Order was a source of countless arguments between us."

"I was only ten at that point," Said Noemi. "But I remember Uncle Berlios calling the whole family together for a meeting. He forbid us all from taking any part in England's civil war, although I didn't care much at the time. Father had little interest in it at the time, and I wasn't close enough with Blaise to give him a second thought. It's strange, to think back and realize the two of you were struggling with it, hundreds of miles away."

Hermione nodded. "It was a daily struggle, seeing friends injured and dying. Our lives were centered around the war. Very few of the older members were working openly at that point- the Death Eaters had taken over the Ministry, you see, which forced them into hiding- and the younger kids were always training. Without the Black fortune, which Harry had inherited, I don't know how any of us would have survived.

"I spent my days exercising, learning all the spells I could manage, and training the newer members, who were just out of Hogwarts. Most nights, I managed to steal away to see Blaise, although we had to be very careful about it. Elena, who was living with her latest husband in Spain, tended to pop in at the most unexpected times, to check and see if Blaise was still alive. To this day, I can't understand how she could live separated from her child when he was living in a war zone."

"Elena has always been like that." Noemi murmured. "As long as I can remember, she's always treated Blaise like an accessory, something she plays with when she's bored. As long as Blaise does what she says, she tends to leave him alone."

"Blaise used to have to hide me when she came around. I used to think he was ashamed to be seen with me. She knew we were friends in school, but it would have been abhorrent to her if she found out we were dating. And Blaise has always been a mother's boy. I didn't feel right, forcing him to choose between us, so I usually kept quiet about it. Although, once, I heard her talking about her own prejudices. She hides it well, now, but she's dead set against muggle born witches and wizards joining the magical society. Looking back, I think Blaise hid me to protect me from her. She's a powerful witch, and I think he was afraid of what she would have done to me. At the time, though, I only thought he was afraid for his own reputation. As far as I knew, Pansy Parkinson was the only one of his friends who knew about us, and she barely tolerated me.

"That night, Elena showed up unexpectedly. We had been…otherwise occupied…in Blaise's room," at this, Hermione colored a little, and hoped the darkness around them hid her blush. "But we could hear her heels clicking down the hall. Blaise panicked, and shoved me under the bed. I fought him, because I was tired of hiding from his mother. I was young and impulsive. He put a body- bind charm on me, and hid me just in time. Elena barged in without so much as a knock, and asked who he had over. She had found my overalls in the hall, which was strictly muggle fashion at the time."

At this, Noemi sniggered a little. "Hey, it was 1999, and they were very 'in' at the time!" Hermione defended, laughing a little. She exhaled strongly before continuing, her tone sobering. "Blaise lied and said one of his friends had brought them over as a gag gift. She believed it, not that she knew who his friend were in the first place, and left soon after.

"When he un-did the jinx, I was furious. Before long, we were both lashing out. I screamed at him for all the times he would manipulate me, both physically and mentally. About how he would allow his mother's decisions rule his life. That night, I said all of the things he did that drove me mad, the things I had kept quiet about in the name of peace.

"He didn't hold back either, of course. He shouted about how I would ignore him for my 'projects' and how I always chose Harry and Ron over him. I found out that Draco Malfoy, who I greatly despised at the time, had known about the two of us for quite a while. After that, we were just shouting whatever would wound each other the most. That's the problem with dating someone for a long time- they know exactly what will cut you the deepest, because they've been there for all of the worst stuff in life."

"Eventually, I accused him of being ashamed of me, and said I was disgusted at myself for being with such a coward. He had been trying to take me with him to Italy, where it was 'safe'. I told him I wasn't going to hide anymore, and gave him an ultimatum. That was my biggest mistake that night. I told him he either had to come out and fight with me in the war, a cause I believed with all my heart, or he could find someone else to be with. And…he chose that option. It was like…like a bucket of cold water had been dumped on me. I was angry, and so was he, but I never thought he would actually end it. We had been through so much together, but eventually it was too much."

Hermione's breathing hitched, and she swallowed hard, determined not to cry. She had to finish this story. "We were engaged, you know. Waiting for the war to end so we could get married and announce our relationship to the world. Looking back, it was an impossible dream, yearned for by two people, too young to really know what love was about. So I got up, took off his family ring he had given me, and gathered my things. I could feel his eyes on my back, and tried to keep my face blank. Right as I was about to floo away, he stopped me, and I thought maybe it wasn't too late. Maybe we could still fix it… us. Instead, he told me he never wanted to talk to me again. That I had 'wasted enough of his life on me'. It felt like he was kicking me while I was down. In a weak attempt to save face, I assured him I never wanted to see him as long as I lived. It would be nine years before we saw each other again."

Silence reigned.

"And Alexander?" Noemi's voice was quiet. "What about him?"

Hermione gave a humorless laugh. "I have no excuse for separating them. My actions were a mix of hurt pride and fear. To this day, his words cut me deeply. For the first time, I had opened myself up to someone completely, and I got hurt. I couldn't face him. I deluded myself, thinking he wouldn't accept Xander because he wasn't a pureblood, even though I knew deep down he would have. I used his words as a justification for keeping his child from him. It was a mistake, but no one is perfect, especially me. Not even close."

~(o)~

"To your left you'll see Slug and Jiggers Apothecary, where you can collect your potions ingredients. If you sign up for a student membership, they'll give you a ten percent discount throughout your time at Hogwarts. Trust me, it will make a difference. We can stop in and grab your potions kits in a moment, but first we have one very important stop: Ollivander's Wand Shop." Hermione swept her arm dramatically to the side, smiling widely.

In front of her stood this year's ten muggle students she was charged with, their eyes wide and darting around Diagon Alley. Hermione remembered her own first time in the wizarding market, the feeling of exhilaration, excitement, and nervousness. They stood in a single- file line, thanks to Hermione's roping charm. She had learned several years ago that students were prone to separate and wander if she didn't magically keep them together. Without delay, she led the small group into Ollivander's cramped shop, standing by the doorway. It was only fair, to let old Mr. Ollivander make his creepy, traditional entrance.

As usual, his performance was spectacular. One of her students even gave a little shriek as he spoke from behind her. As he passed her on the way to the counter, Garrick Ollivander reached out and gave her hand a little squeeze. Although the two weren't terribly close, she could see the old wizard hadn't forgotten her role in freeing him from Malfoy Manor all those years ago. The dramatics of the war had done little for the old man, and he now lived quietly in his shop, selling and making wands. Hermione had heard his granddaughter- whose name was Marie, or Maggie, or something similar- now assisted him. Hearing the whirr of a sander, she suspected the young girl was busy making wands in the back room.

After a half hour, all ten of her students had received their wands. The shop itself was a little worse for wear, though. The ancient vase in the corner had been smashed not once, but twice, and one of her more enthusiastic girls had blasted apart an entire section of shelved wands. Ollivander wasn't upset though, thrilled to have a "challenging" customer. It was worth the drama, seeing all of her student beam at their wands, and she remembered the first heady rush that came with finding one's magical match.

After reminding them that the wand picked the wizard, and to treat theirs well, Ollivander turned to Hermione to settle the bill. She collected muggle money from several of her students, and slipped him her Hogwarts bank card a quiet boy in the back of the group, who came from a very poor family, and subsequently received a partial scholarship for his supplies that year.

Just as she was about to turn and leave, Hermione heard her name called from further inside the shop. A young woman stood at the end of one of the rows of wands, waving a little. Hermione pointed out Floean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor across the street, and send her little group scurrying over for "the best ice cream this side of the channel". Making sure they all arrived in the shop without delay, Hermione turned back to the young woman, who waited patiently.

"You're Hermione Granger, right?" asked the girl, her flyaway blonde hair and piercing blue eyes marking her as an Ollivander.

"I am," she confirmed, smiling. "But I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage."

"Oh, terribly sorry," the young woman replied. "My name is Millie Ollivander. I'm here to help out my grandfather with the shop, and apprenticing to become a Wand Maker. Taking a few classes over at Charleston, too."

"Did you go to Hogwarts?" asked Hermione, although she already knew the answer. She had taught at the school for too long, and hadn't been absent long enough to have missed the young Ollivander as a student.

"Oh no, I was home-schooled by my mother." She explained. "I unofficially graduated last year, actually. Anyway, I have a message to give you."

"A message? From who?"

"Well, it was given to me by Verity, who works over at Weasley's Wizard Weezes. And it was given to her by George Weasley, himself!"

Hermione smiled at the excitement in her voice. The idea that Fred and George were minor celebrities still amused her a little, and she reminded herself to tease them about it when she next saw them. Reaching out and collecting the intricately folded parchment, Hermione thanked Millie before saying goodbye.

After seating herself at a table with her chattering muggle-borns, Hermione pulled out her wand. The chattering at the rest of the table quieted quickly- they had learned that her wand meant she was about to do some magic, and the novelty was still fresh for them. Giving the parchment a tap, Hermione watched as it turned into a paper origami dragon, which soared quickly through the air above their heads. Appreciative 'ooh's and 'ahh's were given, and the dragon settled down again in front of her. As a finale, it opened its mouth and emitted a shower of sparks, before unfolding and becoming a normal scroll of parchment. The children in the room, some of them not even from her party, gave a little round of applause. Although the show seemed exactly that- a show- it was actually much cleverer than that. If the parchment had done anything different, Hermione would have known it came from someone other than Fred and George, and was consequently a ruse.

As the eleven year olds bent their heads back toward their frozen desserts, Hermione read the message, written by Fred by the look of it. The handwriting was a chore to read, irregularly spikey and loopy by line.

_My Darling Hermione,_ the missive began.

_My most excellent brother and I have been called away for business this afternoon, and have subsequently entrusted this VERY important epistle to our lovely employee Verity. If you're running on your usual schedule- as you usually are- you will be showing the ikkle firsties around the Alley today. We're sure her capable hands will make sure this letter gets to you. _

_In regards to your owl, which we received several days ago and have been too busy to reply to until now_- Hermione snorted disbelievingly- _we would be delighted to attend your man candy's birthday. However, it has proved to be quite the chore in tracking down an appropriate give for said boyfriend, as we do not believe he would appreciate most of our products. But have no fear, we have procured a very clever gift we're sure he'll enjoy. See you soon._

_~ Gred and Forge~_

_PS: We're having a bit of trouble with one of our latest inventions. Luckily, we know someone with their Mastery in Charms. Mind if we drop by your classroom? You can expect us in the coming weeks. Thanks!_

Sighing, Hermione put down the letter. Knowing those two, they would be 'dropping by' during the middle of a class of fourth year Griffindors, who were excitable enough as it was. Shaking off the thought and standing, Hermione continued her tour of the Alley. By the end of the day, the entire party was exhausted, and Hermione began the long and tedious process of returning the students back home. It was rewarding, though, when they raced into their houses, eager to show parents and siblings their newest magical acquisitions. After reminding them magic wasn't permitted outside school, and the appropriate information for the Hogwarts Express, she departed.

Before long, she was left with only one student, a quiet boy named Benjamin Berry. As they walked down a run- down street, Hermione made sure to keep her face neutral. He was her scholarship student, and lived in one of the less attractive parts of London. His dark hair was straight, slicked back from his face. His clothes were worn but neat, and he was a little tall for his age, but thin. In some ways, he reminded her of a young Severus Snape, and something obviously weighed on his mind. "How much do I owe the school, from today?" The boy's voice said beside her.

Hermione looked at him, brows raised. "Your fees from today are covered by your scholarship, Mr. Berry."

He shook his head impatiently. "I know it was covered by the scholarship, but I didn't do anything to deserve it. It hardly seems fair, taking money for nothing like that."

Hermione nodded a little, seeing his point. "That's true, although you will have to work to keep the scholarship. Good grades and no behavioral problems will ensure that it is continued. However, if you'd like to do a little work for your own peace of mind, you're welcome to help out the teachers. We can always use an extra pair of hands."

This seemed to ease the young man's mind, and Hermione suspected he would work hard at Hogwarts, given the right encouragement. However, as they approached the front door to his brownstone, Hermione turned to Benjamin. "Mr. Berry, may I give you a piece of advice? You will be sorted into one of four houses when you arrive at Hogwarts. One such house, Slytherin, is notorious for taking in the school's most ambitious, resourceful students, and has turned out many successful, powerful witches and wizards. It's not a bad house, despite its reputation. But when you are sorted, don't count out any other houses, including Hufflepuff. Personally, I don't think people give them enough credit, and some of the best people I know were sorted there. You might fit in better than you think." With that, Hermione straightened up and gave three hard raps against the wooden door in front of her. It was soon opened by the elder Mr. Berry, a giant of a man who worked in construction. Despite his size, Hermione suspected the single father had a good heart, even if he seemed a bit strict. Benjamin's little sister currently peeked around her father's leg.

"Benny?" she asked, "What didja get from the magic shops?" she asked, lisping a little.

Benjamin's face grinned widely, and she stepped into the house, calling a "Thank you, Professor Granger!" behind him. Hermione reminded his father of the appropriate details, including the trick to getting into Platform 9 3/4.

"Thanks again, Ms. Granger." Said Mr. Berry. "Do you think my boy'll do alright at that school of yours?"

"I do, Mr. Berry, with the right encouragement." She said, smiling a little. "Indeed, I do."

~(0)~

"Alexander, I will not tell you again. Get away from the door!" Hermione demanded, raising her voice. Xander slunk away from the miniature door that was carved into the corner of the room.

As he sat back down in front of the fireplace, the windows began to shake violently again. The clock on the mantle was already spinning backwards, and her wine glass on the side table was deftly revolving on its base. Brutus and Duke were currently trying to hide their bulk under the coffee table, to no avail.

There was some serious magic going on at Zabini Manor that night.

The magical shenanigans had been going on for several hours, and Hermione wondered when they would end. The cause of the magic was not unknown, however. It seemed a Zabini elf, Quin, was having a baby. Apparently when giving birth, elves lost their normally tight control of their powerful magic. Interesting.

Xander, ever eager to learn about the magical creatures around them, was in a state of high agitation. Already, he had made several notes in his journal, detailing some of the side-effects of elvish childbirth. Hermione contemplated sending her son to bed, a little unnerved at his intensity, but dismissed the idea. After all, this was a rare event.

After another hour of the unruly events, they all ceased at once, much to the dog's relief. Ten minutes later, three pops were heard. Jeb, Carlou, and Quin stood before Blaise, who lounged on the couch beside her. The later elf held a bundle of clean rags, and one tiny, pointed ear stuck out.

"Quin, should you be up and about right now?" asked Hermione, shocked. She relieved a bewildered look in return.

"Quin is having too many things to be doing to lay about, Lady." The elf replied.

"Indeed, Quin is having her young one and getting back to her work like a good, strong elf." Jeb intoned, looking at her proudly before turning to Blaise. "Master Blaise, Jeb is being very happy to present to you the most honorable House of Zabini's newest servant, the offspring of Quin and Carlou. Is you being ready to give the new elf her name?" he asked.

"Yes, I suppose I am." Said Blaise, folding his newspaper and tossing it aside. "Alexander, come here."

Xander scrambled to his feet, coming to stand at Blaise's side. He leaned forward a little on his toes to get a better look into the bundle of cloth. Blaise took the baby elf from Quin's hands, who gave a little squeal of excitement. It must be quite the honor to have the Master of the house hold your child.

"What do you think we should name her, Alexander?" asked Blaise. "You're the next master of the house, so she'll be around long after you pass on. Pick well."

Xander peeked into the bundle again, looking serious. It seemed Hermione's son knew the importance of elvish loyalty. "Hmm... well I thought it was going to be a boy."

Hermione suppressed a grin. "What about a name that could be a boy name or a girl name?" she prodded.

"Like, um, Lee?"

Hermione nodded. "Or Skylar, or Aaron, or Taylor, or Noel-"

Xander interrupted her. "Hey, that's a good one! Aunt Molly always say babies are gifts, like at Christmas! That's what her name should be- Noel!"

"The young master gives a very fine name." said Jeb.

"Then her name is Noel." Said Blaise officially, handing the baby back to Quin.

"Thank you, young master, for giving Noelley such a fine name!" she squeaked, before all the elves pop'ed out of the room.

"Hey!" called Xander, too late. "I didn't name her Noelley!"

Hermione and Blaise burst into laughter, watching the outraged look on their son's face. It seemed he still had a lot to learn about the world around him. "Too late now, darling." Said Hermione. "Anyway, elves tend to turn any name into a nickname, no matter how hard you try."

Xander just huffed, looking cross. And that was how Noelley got her name.

* * *

><p>Chapter Eighteen Author's Note:<p>

Happy New Year to you all!

As a New Year's gift, feel free to leave a review!

Gotbooks93


	19. NINETEEN

**Time's Up by Gotbooks93**

**Summary: **_After successfully hiding the existence of her son for eight years, Hermione is out of luck and time. When the father of her child discovers her secret, their quiet worlds are changed forever. Join Hermione as she takes on the challenges of co-parenting, snake charming, and a crazy little thing called 'love'._

_**Disclaimer: I own many things, but not any recognizable characters, things, or places in the Harry Potter series. Somehow, I doubt that JKR would agree to joint custody…shame, that.**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>CHAPTER NINETEEN<strong>_

Time passed.

In the weeks following Noel's birth, Hermione found herself settling into a new routine. New, but comfortable.

She spent her days in her classroom, teaching and trying to prevent various magical calamities that her students managed to invent. Afternoons were spent in her office, grading papers and tweaking curriculums. Her nights, though, were quite a bit more enjoyable.

Most evenings were spent either in her quarters at Hogwarts or in the decadent confines of Zabini manor. Xander would sprawl out on the floor, diligently making his way through his homework. Blaise found it highly entertaining at his son's blatant over-achievement in his work, which included footnotes, citations, and cross- referenced material to back up his arguments. Even Hermione, who had never been less than top if her class during her years in muggle primary school, found the practice a little excessive. But it was better to be an overachiever than an underachiever, she decided.

~(o)~

Their routine during September was interrupted a little by Hermione and Blaise's joint birthday celebration. Blaise was only a few weeks older than she was, and Hermione decided a surprise party would be quite fun, if only she could keep the planning of the party away from Blaise's sharp golden gaze.

The party, cleverly devised by Hermione, took place in a private room at the Three Broomsticks, and had been a smashing success.

She had made sure the event was attended by both of their friends, as well as her parents, Christian, and Noemi. Somehow, the invitation to Elena had gotten lost in transit. Shame, that.

Inviting Blaise's friends had been somewhat more difficult, especially when dealing with people like Marcus Flint and Adrian Pucey, who she only knew a little. In an effort to avoid conflict, she had sent Malfoy's invitation directly to Mandy. Unexpectedly, they had all shown up to the event, looking dapper in their professionally tailored suits and well- polished shoes.

As time passed during the party, Hermione and Blaise's friends had slowly begun to mingle. She couldn't help but be amused by the end of the event; Hermione's father was deep in conversation with Prucey, discussing the muggle stock market, and a rather sloshed- looking Cho Chang snuggled up against Theo Nott. Funny how good food (and copious amounts of alcohol) could break down barriers.

Despite this, the variations in taste, lifestyle, and personality had become rather apparent through gifts. Fred and George Weasley, true to their word, had come through with a gift for Blaise. One of their latest products, which had yet to hit the shelves at Weasley's Wizard Weezes, was called The Impersonating Illusionist. A small box around six inches wide, the device was a rather like the magical version of a muggle hologram.

"Here, let us show you how it works." Fred had jumped in to explain, eagerly. "It's a rather brilliant piece of magic, if I do say so myself. You just record an image of yourself- say, you sitting at your desk at work, writing on a bit of parchment- and you record one phrase, which will repeat whenever someone comes within five feet of you. Perfect for a lazy afternoon at the office, if you'd rather, say, be meeting up with a certain Charms Mistress for a quick snog. Mind, it can only record one action/phrase combination, but it's dead useful in certain situations."

Hermione, torn between embarrassment (caused by the snogging comment) and horror (that the device would become her student's new favorite item), was silent as Blaise examined the gift thoughtfully.

"Brilliant, Weasley." He said, nodding to George, then to Fred. "Weasley. Thank you."

Fred and George, looking pleased, melted back into the crowd, and another well- wisher stepped forward to present their gift. Some more memorable gifts of the night included some rather naughty Slytherin lingerie for Hermione (from Ginny and Pansy), and a set of front- row seats to the next Quidditch World Cup (courtesy of Ron). Blaise gifted Hermione with a beautiful platinum bracelet, with tiny square diamonds around the edges. A pair of diamond earrings accompanied the bracelet, and she knew they had cost a fortune.

However, Blaise claimed his most memorable gift came after the party, when Xander and Hermione presented their gift. They were the only people left in the room, everyone else having left a few minutes before. Around them, tables held empty butterbeer bottles and plates, and chairs were scattered around tables. The sun, close to dipping below the horizon, spread sparse beams of light against the aged wood of the floor.

Xander handed Blaise a small, wooden box, smiling quietly. The outside of the box was dark wood, and simple swirls were carved into the sides. Upon opening it, Blaise looked vaguely puzzled. Inside were ten stoppered vials, their contents a shining, pearly substance.

"You told me that you wish you had been there to see all the important moments in Xander's life." Hermione said, smiling softly. "We can't turn back time, but we decided to give you the next best thing. Memories."

"Mother and I went to a shop in Hogsmeade and got our memories professionally duplicated, so they're very clear." Xander piped in. "Three of the memories are mine. One is from Christmas last year, and one is from a vacation we took a few summers ago, and one is just of a normal day of us together. They're not terribly exciting, but Mother and I decided those are some of the best ones.

Blaise's eyes suspiciously bright, he managed a weak smile. "I'm sure whichever ones you've picked are perfect, Alexander."

"The dates are listed on the top of the lid," Hermione explained, pointing. "I put in two of when I was pregnant, and the other five are big moments in Xander's life. Birth, first steps, first day of school, that sort of thing."

Blaise, looking down at the ten small vials, looked as though he were gazing at the Holy Grail, and swallowed hard.

"Thank you." He said solemnly, and Hermione could feel the powerful emotion behind the words. "Thank you both."

Hours later, Hermione woke in the darkness of their bedroom. Automatically, she moved an arm out behind her, reaching for Blaise's form. The sheets were cool and empty behind her. Shaking off the sleepy haze of her mind, she sat up and strained her eyes in the low light coming from embers in the fireplace. Finding no sign of her lover, she slid from the bed, padding quietly towards the sitting room attached to their bedroom. Her eyes caught on a long, thin strip of light coming from under the double doors, and paused.

Hermione pressed one hand against the dark wood of one of the doors, feeling the faint groove woven along the surface. Moving slowly, she turned the handle of the door slowly, careful not to make any noise, and peered into the sitting room.

The sitting room was lit by an overhead light fixture, although Blaise had dimmed it a little. After a moment, she located him on the couch, the coffee table pulled up in front of him. The wooden box of memories was open, its contents spread across the table's surface. Amid all the vials was the Zabini family pensive, which Blaise's head was currently immersed in. Hermione watched as his hands flexed and relaxed against the edges of the pensive. After a few minutes, Blaise removed his face from the liquid surface of the pensive, and roughly dashed the moisture from his eyes. As Blaise used his wand to transfer the memory back into its vial, Hermione recognized the blue label, and realized it was the memory of Alexander's birth. A knot formed in her own throat, and she silently cried along with her lover, hidden from view.

Blaise continued to watch the memories, again and again, well into the early hours before dawn. Some time around three in the morning, Hermione returned to their bed, her eyes fixed on the door to the sitting room. Before long her eyelids to begin to feel like lead and they slipped closed. Two hours later, she drifted back into consciousness, roused by the feel of Blaise getting into the bed behind her. As he molded his body around her back, she felt the whisper of his lips against the back of her neck.

"_Questo è il modo in cui le cose dovrebbero essere. Per sempre, amore mio._" He whispered, before wrapping her securely in his arms. Hermione drifted back into sleep, closing her eyes as dawn's rosy fingers spread across the sky.

~(o)~

"That's right, Mr. Hopkins, make sure the 'flick' is short but sharp. Miss Smith, try making your 'swish' a bit less…dramatic." Hermione roamed between the tables in her classroom, gently correcting each of her first year students as they strove to cast _Wingradium Leviosa_.

She could still remember her own bossy instructions to Ronald eighteen years ago, and reminded herself to owl both Harry and Ron for a lunch date. They'd hardly seen each other over the summer, and now that the school year had started up their schedules would be busier than ever. Never the less, she resolved to make time for her oldest friends.

Scanning the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students, Hermione's gaze caught on the form of Benjamin Berry, who was seated with another tall Hufflepuff boy. He had just crumpled a bit of parchment in his hand, and Rosemary Rowle, a pureblood girl from one of the Old Families gave a loud snicker. Benjamin's cheeks flamed, and his housemate patted his back encouragingly, shooting a glare at the stuck- up girl. Hermione's blood boiled for a moment, watching the obvious bullying, but forced herself to remain silent. In her experience, it was often better to let her students try to deal with these sorts of things themselves. However, that didn't mean she wouldn't keep a close eye on the situation.

By the end of class, Hermione was rather satisfied with the student's results in regards to the charm. Only one of her pupils had managed to blow anything up, and no one had stabbed anyone else in the eye with their wand. She called out a reminder of their homework before dismissing the class.

"Mr. Berry, a word?" Hermione requested as the children began to file out. She left the door to her office open, seating herself behind her desk.

Looking nervous in a way that only first year Hufflepuffs could, Benjamin shuffled in, taking the seat Hermione gestured to.

"How are you finding Hogwarts, Mr. Berry?" Hermione asked, smiling pleasantly.

"Good."

"Excellent. Finding plenty of friends?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I was pleased to see you chose to give Hufflepuff a chance."

At that, Benjamin glanced up, surprised. "'Scuse me if I'm wrong, Professor, but I thought the Sorting Hat decided where we're sorted."

Hermione smiled indulgently. "Indeed, Mr. Berry, it does. But it is my theory that the hat will not place you somewhere you are not willing to give a chance. As a matter of fact, I've heard it speaks to some students, should any conflict arise during the sorting."

The boy blushed, not quiet meeting her eyes. "As I thought." Hermione continued. "And you haven't run into any… trouble?"

Benjamin's dark eyes darted up to meet her, but he remained silent. Hermione swished her wand at the door, and it closed with a discreet click.

"Mr. Berry," Hermione continued, "If you are ever to run into any trouble from other students, especially concerning your blood status, you're more than welcome to talk to me. I myself have been in your shoes and some things, unfortunately, do not change."

"But you're Hermione Granger!" Benjamin exclaimed. "And a war hero, to boot. Can't imagine anyone trying to take you on."

"Well, most people don't try to 'take me on' these days, but I was a first year once, too." Hermione explained. "And I only became a war hero after fighting a long and bloody war to change the way things were. Don't get me wrong, our world is a better place now for it. But no matter how many laws against discrimination we create, some people are always going to cling to the old ways. And it's our job to show them that muggle borns are just as deserving of your magical gift as everyone else."

Benjamin nodded, shifting in his seat. Sighing, Hermione gave a dismissal. "If you'd like a few tips, I'm sure you can find some basic defensive spells in the library. Anything by Herald Geome should be useful. Also, I know Professor Firenze is looking for a bit of help on Thursday evening, trying to get his classroom vegetation in check, if you're still interested in 'paying off your debt'?"

"Yes, ma'am, I am." Benjamin replied, nodding vigorously. "But could you tell me where his classroom is?"

"Third floor, west wing. Just follow the sound of bird calls and you should be able to find it. Off you go."

After the door snapped shut, Hermione sat still in her office, eyes wandering restlessly. Her first years had been the last class of the day, and the temptation to slip out of her office early nearly overwhelmed her. Luna had agreed to collect Xander along with Teddy from school, but surely she'd be happy to turn the boys over to Hermione's care for the rest of the afternoon. They could all pop over to the Alley and get ice cream. Maybe stop into Blaise's office at work to say hello. Then, some shopping and dinner at the Leakey Cauldron…

Before the idea got out of hand, Hermione firmly reigned in the fantasy. She knew Wendy Allen would likely stop by to go over the material for next week's quiz, likely bringing some friends along. And Neville had mentioned he might bring by an enchanted ficus for her to look at. Many years had passed, but some things didn't change. She was still a rather bossy bookworm, and work was something to be accomplished. After all, she hadn't earned the title 'Brightest Witch of the Age' by sitting around eating ice cream.

Sighing a little, Hermione glanced over to the west wall of her office, focusing on a framed picture on a shelf. It was one of Xander and Blaise at the beach in Italy, making a sandcastle in the hot sun. She had placed the photograph there at the beginning of term, and her students frequently asked about it when they came into her office. Taking one last look at the moving black and white photograph, she forced her thoughts back to her sixth's year's essays on the _Avis_ charm.

~(o)~

She _wasn't _snooping, Hermione told herself firmly. She was just making some… recreational discoveries. Although, if Blaise were to walk in and find her, elbow deep in his study's desk, he may say otherwise.

In Hermione's defense, her original intention was to locate a spare red quill, so she could finish grading her fourth year's essays before tomorrow morning. However, in looking through the loose odds and ends in the drawers, she had found a few interesting items.

Most of the objects were rather mundane- broken quills, scraps of parchment with names and floo numbers on them, and reminders to do various tasks. A muggle stapler and paper clips had made Hermione grin, as well as a small, folded muggle photograph of Hermione and Xander, taken some years before. It seemed Blaise had been in contact with Hermione's mum. Still, the knowledge that Blaise kept a photograph of them inside his own desk gave her a little, light fluttering feeling in her chest.

Towards the back of the desk drawer, Hermione began to find fewer bits and pieces and more debris. Broken quills, small balls of parchment, and a spare sickle met her inquisitive fingers. The slim, long drawer at the center of the desk seemed awfully long, and Hermione frowned as her hand sightlessly drifted back further and further. Her arm was almost fully extended into the desk. Surely, she should have hit the back panel of the drawer by then?

Just as the thought drifted into her mind, Hermione's hand skirted a small, cool piece of metal. After feeling the object with her fingers for a moment, she realized there was a small, metal loop attached to the wooden bottom of the desk. The loop was less than an inch wide, and welded onto a small metal base. In feeling the shape of the loop, Hermione's finger accidently caught in the catch and flicked it backwards.

The 'click' of the object was accompanied by another movement that had Hermione hurriedly jerking her arm from the drawer altogether.

The bottom of the desk was ever- so- slowly rising, millimeter by millimeter. Its items shifted a bit with the motion, sliding around. After a few seconds, the bottom of the drawer had fully raised, revealing a hidden compartment below it. The false bottom of the drawer was supported by thin silver pegs, about as long as Hermione's pinkie finger. The compartment below was quite shallow, only large enough to hold a few folded pieces of parchment, neatly folded and sorted into four stacks.

Hermione didn't move, but stared at the stacks, mentally debating with herself over the pros and cons of looking through the parchments, which looked suspiciously like letters. Behind her, the manor's grounds were bathed in twilight, the garden and trees dark against the hazy blue sky. She knew Blaise would be at work late tonight, an evening meeting holding him up at the office. Xander was likely upstairs, playing with Duke and Brutus, or working on homework. The knowledge that she wouldn't be caught wasn't helping her moral compass.

Hermione paused once, twice. Her hand hovered over the first stack of papers. Exhaling quickly, Hermione snatched up the stack, and hesitantly sank into Blaise's desk chair behind her, looking around guiltily. The study was lit by the faint light through the windows and a single table lamp by the door. The armchairs sat empty, and the bookcases seemed to offer a silent judgment against her. Glaring at the books, she defiantly opened the first folded parchment, and was almost immediately disappointed. It was a statement of ownership of Blaise's personal vault at Gringotts. While the document was undoubtedly important, it was so… mundane.

The other pages in the stack were equally dull, although a few of them took her by surprise. Besides some important- looking legal documents, Blaise had also stored a copy of Xander's birth certificate and a letter that she, herself had written Blaise in Hogwarts. As she made her way through the first few stacks, Hermione laughed at herself a little. Some part of her had expected to find some startling secret or incriminating piece of evidence against Blaise. When she tried to come up with suitable examples, she realized they all sounded rather like something from a muggle film.

By the time she reached the final stack of papers, Hermione was rather relaxed in her snooping, leaning back lazily against the chair. The first page was Blaise's Statement of Innocence from the Second Wizarding War, signed and approved by the Wizangamot. The second page was a letter from Christian to Blaise, detailing Beauxbaton's suspension of Noemi several years ago. The third and final piece of parchment was on rather thick parchment, and the broken seal depicted the Zabini family crest. Hermione leaned forward a little, a small frown marring her brows. The script inside was unfamiliar, and the words were Italian. After casting a translation spell, Hermione dipped her head to read.

_My dear nephew,_ the missive began.

_I will admit, I was surprised to receive your letter. Regardless, I would be pleased to provide you with advice concerning your current predicament. _

_Judging by the way you described your relationship with Alexander, I think you will have little trouble in gaining custody of him. Based on our brief introduction a few weeks ago, he is an intelligent, clever young man with much potential, and will hopefully be a valuable asset to the Zabini line. I have the appropriate forms to declare him as your son and heir, should you wish to do so, and can send them at your earliest convenience. As I'm sure you've realized, your connections both in Italy and the UK would allow you to override any resistance offered by Alexander's mother, Ms. Granger._

_It is my opinion, however, that you go a step further in building up your little family. While it is all well and good for those of lower social classes to endorse single parenthood, most- if not all- of the Old Families heartily endorse the traditional, nuclear family structure in a household. Understand, I do not say this as an offense against your lifestyle or even Ms. Granger's. But the scandal that has accompanied the discovery of Alexander's parentage has begun to reflect poorly not only against you, but against the family as a whole, and must be corrected in all due haste._

_Blaise, you have consulted me in times past on many subjects, such as the perusal of your law degree, allegiance in England's civil war, and the various tricks to handling your mother's behavior. As a result, I will assume my words carry some weight with you. So let me be blunt- If there were no child in existence, I would likely encourage you to look elsewhere for a marital companion, and consequently avoid the mixing of our bloodlines. However, as Alexander has been both revealed to and socially acknowledged by the family, I must advise you to acquire Ms. Granger as a wife immediately. Every day that goes by without an engagement announcement is a mark against the Zabini family as a whole, and thus intolerable. _

_If you were one of your cousins, I would feel the need to provide suggestions on how to tie her to you (an 'unexpected' pregnancy is usually very effective). But judging by her actions and behavior towards you this summer, I have little fear for your success. Continue to court her and she will fall prey to your proposal without fail. While your Ms. Granger is undeniably intelligent, she is female, and thus susceptible to the beguilement of men, especially one such as you. If I know you at all, I imagine you've already begun the process of wooing her. Diamond jewelry, dancing, and sentimental promises of love and fidelity usually seem to do the trick._

_Contact me as soon as the engagement is arranged. I would rather not find out about it in the international issue of _The Daily Prophet_. _

Fais bien, crains rien.

_Berlios Zabini_

Swallowing hard, Hermione sat back against the chair, dazed, and read the letter again. She attempted to assemble facts, instead of falling into a pit of emotional turmoil.

Blaise had contacted his great uncle Berlios for advice in gaining Xander as his heir, without mentioning a word of her, Xander's _mother_! Berlios had advised him to marry her, so that the family could save face. After a moment, Hermione glanced back at the letter, which laid open on the desk.

_If I know you at all, I imagine you've already begun the process of wooing her. Dancing, expensive jewelry, and sentimental promises of love and fidelity usually seem to do the trick._

The words caused her to look back on the events of the last few months.

She and Blaise, dancing at _Trés Belle Chanson. _His birthday gift to her- diamond earrings and a matching bracelet. Casual words that had seemed unimportant at the time. His strange reluctance to admit the Malfoy wedding would be the most spectacular of the decade. Xander's mention of a 'proper family' on the beach in Italy.

Hermione, bristling with hurt and anger, felt as if she could have smacked herself for her blindness. All that time, he had been preparing her for his proposal. If the actions had been out of love, it would have been sweet. But this wasn't love- this was a twisted need to look good for the public, for the other Old Families. This was…this was _wrong_.

And she wouldn't stand for it.

Moving quickly, Hermione stood, cramming Berlios' letter into the hidden compartment of the drawer and slamming it shut. Walking swiftly, she stormed out of the office, following the sounds Xander's voice, which was coming from the informal parlor down the hall. He lay on the floor, surrounded by books and parchment, and was apparently trying to explain the finer points of harvesting the grey columnar cactus during the full moon to Duke. Brutus snored softly on the door a few feet away.

"Alexander," Hermione called to him from the doorway, trying to hide her impatience and anger. "Gather your things, quickly. We're leaving, now."

* * *

><p><em>Translations:<em>

"_Questo è il modo in cui le cose dovrebbero essere. Per sempre, amore mio._" (Italian)

-This is the way things should be. Forever, my love.

"Fais bien, crains rien." (Latin)

-Do well, fear nothing.

* * *

><p>Chapter Nineteen Author's Note:<p>

...Anyone still out there, after all this time? Leave a review to let me know!

Gotbooks93


	20. TWENTY

**Time's Up by Gotbooks93**

**Summary: **_After successfully hiding the existence of her son for eight years, Hermione is out of luck and time. When the father of her child discovers her secret, their quiet worlds are changed forever. Join Hermione as she takes on the challenges of co-parenting, snake charming, and a crazy little thing called 'love'._

_**Disclaimer: I own many things, but not any recognizable characters, things, or places in the Harry Potter series. Somehow, I doubt that JKR would agree to joint custody…shame, that.**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>CHAPTER TWENTY<strong>_

Hermione had never been particularly fond of making split- second decisions. She would much rather plan events out, organizing details and anticipating possible problems. But standing in front of the fireplace at Zabini Manor, one hand linked with Xander's, the other clutching a fist full of floo powder, Hermione had very little trouble making a decision. When she had found Berlios' letter to Blaise, revealing their manipulation of her, she had felt confused and betrayed.

But mostly, she had just felt very, very angry.

In the scant minutes that had passed, her anger had cooled a little, allowing her room for reasonable thought. Part of her wanted to take Xander and disappear to Kenya, or set fire to something within the Manor. Something expensive. Or, rather, several expensive somethings.

Logically, she knew both of these responses were dramatic, immature, and rather stupid.

Still, they were rather tempting.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione resolved to act like an adult. Never mind she could feel her heart crumbling into tiny little pieces; there would be time to cry. Later. For now, they had to get out of there.

She tightened her hand on Xander's and pulled him into the floo with her; their action spurred a long, high- pitched whine from Duke, who stood with Brutus behind them. Both dogs looked at them with big, sad eyes, and Hermione stifled the desire to bring the dogs with them. She had a plan, and needed to stick to it.

After checking to make sure her silent son was ready for the journey, Hermione stated their destination in a loud, clear voice.

"Headmistress McGonagall's office, Hogwarts!"

~(o)~

At the sound of the floo activating, Minevra McGonagall and Poppy Pomfrey looked up. Much to their surprise, Hermione and Xander Granger stepped out moments later, brushing soot from their clothing as they did so.

"Hermione, Alexander, what a pleasant surprise!" the headmistress exclaimed, her Scottish brogue thicker than usual, belaying her shock. She set down her tea cup, which clinked slightly as it settled into its saucer. She and Poppy had designated Friday nights as Tea Night years ago, and were steadfast in their devotion to their old ritual. "I was under the impression that you would be residing at Zabini Manor for the weekend."

"Things have changed, Minevra." Hermione replied evenly, watching as Xander made his way toward Madam Pomfrey. Although it had been years since the mediwitch had babysat him, the two maintained a close bond. Dropping his school satchel on the floor, Xander sat down next to her and plucked a cookie from the tea tray before setting his amber eyes on his mother.

"Please excuse me for disturbing your tea, but I have something to talk to you about, and time is of the essence." Hermione continued.

McGonagall just nodded firmly, leading Hermione further back into the office, closer to her desk. She lowered her voice as she spoke, aware of their audience. "My dear, how may I be of assistance?"

"I would like to add Blaise Zabini to the school's _persona non- grata_ list for the time being." Hermione replied evenly. "Certain facts have recently become known to me, and I'd like to take some precautions."

McGonagall frowned deeply, but extracted the enchanted list from her desk drawer. "Do you believe Mr. Zabini is a danger to any students or staff within the school?"

Hermione paused, and shook her head reluctantly. "Not a danger, per se, but I believe it would be in the best interest of both myself and Xander to maintain a distance between us."

The headmistress said nothing, but looked steadily at Hermione with cool, grey eyes.

Hermione sighed impatiently, her eyes darting to the clock on the desk. "Minevra, I know the list is supposed to be reserved for emergencies, but I need a night to prepare myself. You can take his name off the list in twenty- four hours. I should be ready by then."

After looking at Hermione a moment longer, Minevra plucked a quill from her desk and added Zabini's name to the list. The school's wards would prevent him from physically entering the grounds, by floo, broom, portkey, or foot. Hermione gave a sigh of relief as Blaise's name glowed gold before fading back to black.

"Hermione, I have known you for a great many years, and thus think myself rather qualified as a judge of your character. You are reliable, level- headed, and have a good heart. However, one of your greatest downfalls is your pride. As it is not my business, I can neither encourage nor discourage your relationship with Mr. Zabini." McGonagall's voice was steady, but stern. "However, as someone who had lost love before, I would like to offer you this advice: do not take happiness for granted. While it is possible, and even advisable, to keep one's wits around them in times of stress, one cannot dictate the path of love. Do not let yourself miss out on love, for that is an action that you will never forgive yourself for. Take it from an old woman who knows." Again, she paused, letting her words sink in. "Now, I suspect Alexander's bedtime is approaching, and you likely have things to take care of, so I bid you goodnight."

Hermione nodded silently, turning back to Xander and Madam Promfrey, who had remained on the couch and were talking quietly. As she moved back toward her son, Hermione's eyes caught on one of the portraits of Headmasters and Headmistresses on the wall. Most of them were dozing in their chairs, or whispering amongst themselves. Albus Dumbledore, however, was smiling softly at McGonagall, his blue eyes twinkling. Feeling as if she were intruding on an intensely personal moment, Hermione looked away.

After saying their goodbyes, Hermione and Xander departed the office. They made their way through the sparsely populated halls before arriving at Hermione's rooms. Pausing in the doorway, she turned to Xander. He had been silent up to that point, and it was starting to worry her. "Why don't you go get ready for bed, darling?" she suggested softly, her eyes sweeping over his face.

Still silent, Xander headed down the hall, the door to his room clicking shut. Hermione fluttered around the room for several minutes, vanishing dust off of the bookshelves and picking up various pieces of clothing that seemed to have accumulated without her notice. She was just straitening a picture frame to the correct angle when Xander cleared his throat discreetly behind her.

Sitting down on the sofa, Hermione gently patted the cushion beside her, carefully watching the expressions on his young face. Hermione often had to remind herself that her child was just that- a child.

"So I think we should talk about what's happening between me and your dad." Hermione opened cautiously, trying to stay casual. Xander nodded somberly. "I found out something today that might be a problem between he and I, and I think maybe it would be best for us to stay separate until we straighten them out."

Another silent nod. His eyes were big and anxious on his face.

"But I don't want you to worry. Your father and I will always love you, no matter how things turn out between us." Hermione continued. The silence stretched between them. "Do you have anything you want to ask?"

A long, silent look. Then, "I'm going to see Seth on Tuesday, right?"

Hermione hesitated before nodding.

"I think I'm okay, then."

The words cut deep. But maybe it would be better for him to talk to someone outside the situation. Hermione forced a smile, kissed his forehead and smoothed her hand over his curly hair. "Off to bed, then. Don't forget to do your meditation. I love you."

~(o)~

An hour later, Hermione was seated at the table in her kitchen, absently stirring her tea. Her leg jiggled restlessly and her stirring was causing a small whirlpool in the teacup. A stack of graded essays sat in front of her, the scores at the top of the page a little lower than usual- she may have been a bit harsh in her emotional state. After all, she didn't usually deduct points for 'unnecessary comma use'…

Glancing at the clock, she noted that it was approaching ten o'clock, and spurred herself into action. She stood quickly and dumped her now- tepid tea into the sink, cleaning the mug and replaced it in the cupboard. The rest of the rooms were only illuminated by a candle or two, and the crack under Xander's door emitted a tiny spark of light. Reading by flashlight again, then. Deciding to let the sneakiness go, Hermione made her way through the rooms, extinguishing candles as she went.

Shutting her bedroom door behind her, Hermione took a look around. It was definitely messier than usual; several tops were draped over the back of her reading chair by the window, and three books had fallen off of the bookshelf. Shoes lay unpaired and scattered around the floor, and the countertop of her bathroom strewn with various hair care products and makeup.

For a second, Hermione wondered wildly when the rooms had become such a mess, before a realization came upon her. Apparently, she had put her usual housekeeping standards to the side in honor of Blaise's full participation in their lives. The common areas weren't terribly messy, but her room was looking like the site of a natural disaster.

Well, no more.

Setting her wand down firmly on a side table, Hermione slowly began to restore order to the room. She re- hung clothes on their hangers, matched shoes and replaced them on their racks, and sorted her hair products by height, then color. The bed's sheets were changed, table tops were dusted, and rubbish was placed in the bin.

After changing into a pair of well- worn fleece pajama bottoms and a royal blue camisole, Hermione was feeling much more peaceful than before. Her thoughts had apparently organized themselves as she put the room to rights, and she felt rather good, all things considered. Surveying the room, she acknowledged that it was no use putting off the inevitable any longer.

Sitting cross- legged on her bed, she cast an _Expecto Patronum_ at the air in front of her. The charm hardly took any real effort anymore. The thought of holding Xander for the first time often filled her with such happiness that her otter patronus would spout from the tip of her wand with no effort.

This time, however, the otter only appeared weakly before flickering and fading a moment later. Frustrated, Hermione re- cast the charm, only to encounter the same results. She tried to ignore the reason why, feeling weak. Just as the joyful feeling of Xander's birth would enter her mind, another thought jointed it: Blaise had a copy of the event. Blaise, who had manipulated her, using her as a perfect cardboard cutout for his little family. Blaise, who probably didn't really love her at all…

Maybe she wasn't as collected as she had lead herself to believe.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione closed her eyes and called the memory to the forefront of her mind, she attempted to re- live that night in June.

~(o)~

It was in the wee hours, a little before four o'clock in the morning. Hermione's body ached, her muscles tired; a rather understandable reaction after enduring seventeen hours in labor. Molly had puttered around the room, straightening the freshened sheets on her bed, while Ron dozed in the visitor's chair to her left. Mr. Weasley and Harry were sent downstairs for coffee, and Luna was speaking with the St. Mungo's mediwitch in the doorway. Most of the other Weasleys had been shooed home by Molly after hearing the news: mother and son were both doing well, and Hermione had named him Alexander Thomas. No, no one knew why she had picked 'Alexander'. They were allowed to return when the clock showed a more decent hour.

Hermione's eyes had begun to droop, feeling as if they were made of lead. The pain potion the healer had prescribed was working wonders, but also made her sleepy. 'Perhaps I could just rest my eyes for a moment' Hermione thought dazedly. For a few precious minutes, her mind dipped into a pool of refreshing sleep. She stirred back awake a second later, her consciousness jogged by a sound nearby.

Prying open exhausted eyelids, Hermione focused on the person in front of her. A young woman, dressed in mediwitch robes, stood next to the bed. In her arms, a bundle of clean blue blankets squirmed restlessly. It took her an instant to recognize what it was. Her heart gave a happy lurch when it came to her- this was her son, her baby. After nearly ten months of tiresome pregnancy, he had finally joined the world.

"Ms. Granger," the mediwitch said gently. "Would you like to hold your son?"

Immediately, Hermione was feeling much more awake. She nodded quickly, sitting up straight in the hospital bed. The young woman placed the still- squirming bundle in her arms, pausing a second to make sure the new mother's arms could support him.

Hermione ignored her completely, entranced by the little, scrunched- up face in front of her. Someone had taken the baby away and cleaned away the blood and milky white goop before wrapping him in a silky- soft baby blanket. One of the baby's hands was curled around the edge of the blanket, and Hermione gently smoothed one of her own fingertips over the tiny fingernails. His eyes flickered behind their lids for several moments, and Hermione watched, fascinated. Then, quite suddenly, his eyes blinked open. They squinted immediately, and Molly, watching on, flicked her wand and dimmed the lights.

Hermione looked into the eyes of her baby for the first time. They were still newborn blue, and didn't seem to be focused on anything in particular, but darted around him before settling somewhere on Hermione's face- her left cheek, maybe.

Seeing him looking at her, Hermione began to silently cry. "Welcome to the world, little one." She whispered, her voice choked. A hand smoothed over Hermione's head, and she looked up. Molly looked at her, eyes brimming with unshed tears.

"I wish my mum and dad could be here." Hermione whispered suddenly, afraid to break the serene feeling of the room. "I just- I just want them here. And…and I want Blaise here, too. I know I shouldn't but I really do." She continued, fervently. "It's his son too, you know? And I'm so bloody sc- scared that I'm going to mess up." Hermione was openly crying now, her tears landing noiselessly on the baby's blanket.

"Oh, lovvie," Molly crooned. "Now isn't a time for tears. Now is a time for joy. You have a healthy baby boy, and everything is going to work out just fine."

Hermione nodded, taking a deep breath. She smoothed her fingertips over a tuft of dark brown hair swirled on his mainly- bald scalp, and his barely- existent eyebrows. Tracing his features. The baby's eyes stayed riveted on her, darting from the dark cloud of her hair to somewhere a little left of her nose. After a few minutes, the baby shifted in his blanket again, and his eyes drooped closed. His mouth began to move a little in sleep, and his right index finger twitched.

"Isn't he just the most perfect, beautiful thing you've ever seen?" Hermione asked to no one in particular. Again, she counted his tiny fingers and toes, a deep joy settling into her bones.

~(o)~

It was that deep joy that flowed into Hermione's wand as she cast the charm again, calmer now. The silvery- white otter formed steadily in the air, patiently waiting. Hermione took a minute, deciding on a message and sending the otter into the dark night.

She got up from her bed, took down her hair, and brushed her teeth thoroughly. The action called her dentist parents to mind, and she decided to owl and schedule a meal with them. Harry and Ron, too, now that she thought of it. That task accomplished, she slipped into bed and flicked off the light. Surprisingly enough, sleep found her quickly, and she dreamed of blue- eyed babies.

~(o)~

Nina's Tea Shop, located on Nightingale Road in London, could be found only a few blocks from the Leakey Cauldron. The air in the little shop was heavy with the calming scent of chamomile tea, and smooth muggle jazz music sounded overhead, muted. There were two other couples in the shop- one composed of teenagers, the other of a sweet- looking elderly pair. In the corner, a dark haired young man who just screamed 'tortured soul' scribbled out music notes on a napkin, and a middle- aged woman rocked her baby girl while reading a book.

Sitting in her booth alone, Hermione prepared herself.

The location was logical- Hermione had first dragged Blaise into the shop during their seventh year at Hogwarts, and the little muggle café had been used for numerous rendezvous in the years following. A pot of her favorite jasmine tea sat on the table, and its soothing taste calmed her thoughts into order.

She would be very mature. She would be reasonable and calm. She would let him say his piece, and be open to the fact that she misunderstood Berlios' letter. True, the letter had been rather straightforward, but maybe Blaise's actions had only corresponded with Berlios' suggestions by coincidence.

'Yeah, right.' A corner of her brain snarked, and she pushed the thought away. She needed to keep level- headed, and be a good listener. However, she would not allow Blaise to manipulate her any longer. As a top- notch lawyer, he was a rather fantastic manipulator, but she would prevail.

Looking down at her attire, she felt her confidence bolstered a little- she wore a dark red shift dress and black stockings, along with pretty black heels. Her hair was pulled into an elegant, smooth knot, and her makeup was light. Knowing that she looked good gave her a little boost of confidence.

This confidence was only reinforced when Blaise strolled into the shop, looking dapper in a pair of pressed black slacks and a light grey sweater pulled over a button down- shirt. His hair was styled into its usual wind- swept curls and his shoes reflected the overhead lights.

She didn't stand up to greet him, and he slid into the booth across from her. The waitress- her name card read 'Chloe'- swooped over, he ordered black coffee, and their silence continued to stretch. Hermione rather wanted to look away from his burning golden gaze, but was afraid it would be taken as a sign of weakness.

Upon the return of their waitress with his coffee, Blaise broke their eye contact, and took a sip of his coffee. Grimacing a little at the generic taste, he set the mug back down on a napkin. She did the same with her tea cup, and the staring contest re- commenced.

"Do I need to explain why Xander and I left last night?" She asked, breaking the oppressive silence. He looked at her steadily, and she could see possible responses formulating in his mind. Apparently the truth won out.

"I cast a revealing charm on my desk. It showed that you had touched my great- uncle's letter, along with just about everything else in the drawer."

"I didn't start with the intention to snoop around." Hermione replied. "But now, I'm glad I did…Is there anything you'd like to say in regards to the letter?"

A part of her was screaming, 'Tell me it's all a misunderstanding! I love you! _Please!_' but her face remained impassive.

Again, the gears in Blaise's mind seemed to turn, showing in the deep pools of his amber eyes. Then, shifting forward a little, he rested his well- toned forearms on the table and clasped his hands.

"Hermione, I need you to understand something." He began, his tone serious. "What I have been doing is for the best."

Hermione gasped in outrage, her heart crumbling with that sentence. That wasn't the one she had hoped for. "For the _best_? The best for _who?_"

Blaise's lips pressed together in displeasure, but he didn't seem too terribly surprised. "I want you to listen, and listen closely. What I've been doing is the best for _all of us_. I know you, probably better than anyone else. And I know that if you hadn't found that letter, you would have been very happy with the end result of my plan. We would have all been a family, and a happy one at that. My ring would have been on the finger of the woman that I _love_, and my son, my heir, would have been under his family roof, as he should be. We could finally be the family we were always supposed to be. You would have been happy; I would never have rested until I knew your days were filled with joy. You could quit teaching at Hogwarts and-"

"Excuse me?" Hermione cut in sharply. "Why the hell would I quit my job? I love my job. It challenges me every day. I get to share knowledge and sharpen the skill of the future of wizarding society!"

Blaise exhaled sharply in exasperation. "Hermione, you're always saying you wish you could spend more time with Alexander. Besides, you're _so_ far above grading papers and slaving over lesson plans."

"Oh, yes, because it takes so much more effort to be a glorified housewife." Hermione sniped sarcastically. "Blaise, I just can't believe you've been manipulating me this whole time. How dare you-"

"Oh, I dare, _cara_." Blaise interrupted, eyes blazing. "I dare because during those years apart from you, I lived a half- life. I dare because I want you by my side. I _dare_ because I want you to be happy. Is that such a crime? Yes, I didn't tell you every little bit of my intentions. But you always seem to forget that I'm a Slytherin, and I'll do anything to achieve my goals. I know what's best for you."

"I am not a possession!" Hermione said loudly, before lowering her tone. "Blaise, you need to realize something: even if your plan _did_ work, and I never read that letter, what you're doing isn't right. A relationship is a partnership, not a dictatorship."

"It doesn't matter, either way. The end result is the same. Or, it would be if someone didn't go sticking their nose where it doesn't belong."

"Doesn't _belong_? I dare say my nose did belong, considering I'm the topic. And it's _does_ matter, how the ends are achieved."

"It doesn't."

"Does."

"Doesn't."

"Does."

They sat in silence, glaring at each other over the rims of their respective mugs. Around them, the shop's other patrons continued on, apparently oblivious to the tension.

"We can go around like this all day, but the fact remains that you manipulated me into the role you want me to play." Hermione stated, a little calmer than before.

"If your pride-"

"My _pride?_"

"Yes, _your pride_." Blaise said, his voice deadly even. "If _your pride_ weren't such an obstacle in this, we could carry on."

"Well excuse me for being proud of my accomplishments. Being able to support both yourself and your child with a Mastery is hardly anything to turn ne's nose up at."

"Hermione, everyone knows how clever you are, and how hardworking. No one can take that from you. But by marrying me and becoming the mistress of the manor is much less stressful and time consuming."

Hermione looked down into the bottom of her tea cup, as if seeking the answers to life's problems. Finding none, she sighed and looked up, feeling tired. "Blaise, if that's what you want for us- for _me_- I don't know if this is going to work. Maybe I will want to retire from teaching one day, maybe give Xander a sibling, and stay at home. I don't know, yet. But I _do_ know that's not what I want any time in the near future, and I don't like that you've been making all of these decisions for us without consulting me."

Blaise just looked at her, taking in her slumped shoulders and defeated expression. "So that's it, then?" he said quietly.

Hermione paused, wondering how they had gotten into the current situation. Finding no other options, she gave a sad smile. "Yeah, I… I guess it is."

They sat in silence again, and Hermione took a sip of her tea, although it had gone cold long before. Looked out the window.

"There is one other thing we need to discuss." Blaise said quietly, evenly.

Hermione raised her brows expectantly, and he continued. "No matter what happens between us, I'm going to be a father to Alexander. We'll need to get a custody agreement drawn up, and I still intend to name him as my heir."

Hermione said nothing, her mind suddenly reeling. Her silence stirred a little fire back into Blaise's eyes.

"Hermione, I warn you," He began, his tone deadly. "Alexander's mother or not, I won't hesitate to take you to court if you fight me. And I think we both know who will win. I'm not asking to keep him all the time- maybe just the weekends. I can be reasonable. Can you?"

Hermione nodded reluctantly. "I don't think I have the heart to cut you out of his life, even if I could." She admitted. Still, the thought of sharing Xander twisted something inside her. "What would naming him your heir entail?"

"He would inherit everything that's mine, to start. And he'd have to come with me to the annual family gatherings. Add 'Zabini' to his surname. He'd be added to the Zabini line officially, and granted all the privileges and protection that comes with the name. Most of its legal stuff that wouldn't take real effect until he's old enough, and he could still live with you."

Hermione swallowed hard and nodded. "Owl me the paperwork, I'll look it over."

Blaise nodded and raked over her with his eyes, seeming to drink up every inch of her appearance. She couldn't meet his eyes. After several long moments, Blaise pulled out a muggle bank note and threw it on the table. More than enough to cover both their drinks, plus a nice tip for the waitress. Standing, he took one long look at her.

"I love you." He said without adornment.

Hermione met his eyes, nodded. "I know. I'm sorry."

A faint, humorless smile tugged at the corner of Blaise's mouth. "Me, too." Unexpectedly, he bent over her, and pressed a kiss against the crown of her head. His lips lingered a moment too long before he straightened.

Then Blaise Zabini turned and walked briskly out of the shop, hands thrust deep into his pockets. Outside, Hermione watched him pause at the sidewalk, look for cars, and continue on his way.

Leaving her behind with nothing but a cold pot of tea and a shattered heart.

* * *

><p><em>Translations:<em>

"_Cara_" (Italian)

-A term of endearment- dear, darling, etc.

* * *

><p>Chapter Twenty Author's Note:<p>

Keep Calm and Write A Review

Gotbooks93


	21. TWENTY ONE

**Time's Up by Gotbooks93**

**Summary: **_After successfully hiding the existence of her son for eight years, Hermione is out of luck and time. When the father of her child discovers her secret, their quiet worlds are changed forever. Join Hermione as she takes on the challenges of co-parenting, snake charming, and a crazy little thing called 'love'._

_**Disclaimer: I own many things, but not any recognizable characters, things, or places in the Harry Potter series. Somehow, I doubt that JKR would agree to joint custody…shame, that.**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE<strong>_

Lorena de Polo was having a positively horrid day.

Firstly, someone had set off a bundle of dung bombs in Gryffindor tower, causing both the dorm rooms and common room to smell like putrid sewage- Lorena suspected the culprit belonged to Slytherin, and resolved to glare at all of them more fiercely than usual that day. The smell was enough to make Lorena to gag as she hurriedly cast scent- repelling charms on all her belongings. Nasty old Mr. Filtch had threatened them all with month- long detentions for the accident, and she had been terribly worried until a fourth year girl had assured her that it was an empty threat.

Then, at breakfast, where someone had apparently spiked the baked beans with _U- N0- Poo_ from Wealsey's Wizard Weezes. This discovery had prompted Headmistress McGonagall to send several students to Madam Pomphrey to get the antidote.

This detour had caused her to be late for Potions. Professor Benley, who was usually very nice and ever so handsome, had docked ten points from Gryffindor for her tardiness, causing her fellow second years to glare at her. Lorena had slunk down in her seat in embarrassment, and remained silent for the rest of class.

After trudging through the pouring rain to Herbology, Lorena had been sure her day couldn't get any worse. However, the world had decided to prove her wrong. A newborn mandrake had viciously bitten her on the ear during its re- potting, and she had smeared dirt across her forehead while attempting to pry its jaws from her ear. Of course, before she could set her appearance to rights, Rupert Costa, a boy she fancied, had looked over and seen her disheveled appearance before hurriedly looking away. Her best friend Katie had assured her the disheveled look was 'all the rage in Paris' but Lorena remained unconvinced.

After making her way through lunch without incident, Lorena's hopes for the rest of the day were cautiously raised. After all, she had double Charms for the rest of the day, which was her favorite class. She always learned loads of useful spells, and Professor Granger was always very patient- even when something got blown up.

Lately, though, Charms class hadn't been quite as enjoyable.

Lorena was having some trouble with the _Aresto Momentum_ charm they were learning in class, and Professor Granger was getting less and less patient with each attempt. With each of the instructor's impatient corrections, Lorena only became more and more nervous, causing her to botch-up the charm even more. Last class, she had left the room in tears.

According to _The_ _Daily Prophet_, the Charms mistress had been broken up with by her boyfriend a few weeks ago, causing a whirlwind of tabloid coverage. Even if the press hadn't put the story on the front page, the inhabitants of Hogwarts Castle would still know the news. After all, Alexander Granger's partial magical destruction of the Charms classroom was hard to miss.

Although Lorena felt terrible for her broken- hearted professor, she rather thought that didn't mean the woman had to take her heartbreak out on everyone else!

"Lor, guess what!" Katie shrieked as she rushed towards her. "I've just heard from Riley, who heard from Pat, who heard from Greg, that Rupert said you looked 'nice' today!"

Her dread over Charms class was chased away by the pronouncement, and Lorena grinned. Perhaps the day wasn't _completely _horrid after all.

~(o)~

Hermione tried, in vain, to calm her nerves. No, the books on the third shelf did _not_ need to be straightened again, and the couch cushions were _fine_ the way they were. Although, it probably wouldn't hurt to do one last air freshening charm… after all, it _was _feeling a bit stuffy.

Just as she raised her wand to start the charm, green flame suddenly leapt in the fireplace, and two figures stepped out. Xander, after regaining his balance, scooped up his bag and headed straight to his room without a word to either of his parents.

After taking a moment to brush soot off his jeans, Blaise straightened his impressively tall frame. Something fluttered in the pit of her stomach, a feeling Hermione quickly tried to squash. That tactic failing, she quickly began their usual 'Let's be concerned co- parents' routine.

"How'd it go?"

"He locked himself in his room for a few hours when he first got here. Blew up a lamp."

"Anything else?"

"No, just the lamp."

A sigh.

"How'd you get him to stop?" Hermione asked, frowning.

"Er, I didn't, actually. Quin popped into his room with a snack, and she had Noelley with her. Carries her around in this little sling on her back. Anyway, Xander saw her and started making faces, which made her laugh, and soon enough he was having a blast, finding new ways to make the baby giggle. Of course, all the paintings of the ancestors were outraged- a Zabini heir, daring to interact with house elf spawn!"

Hermione burst into giggles at the picture Blaise painted, and he soon joined in. Before long their laughter died, leaving behind an awkward silence. Hermione cleared her throat nervously and avoided his gaze.

"I was hoping that things were getting better. He's still meditating every day, and I try to encourage him to walk around the Hogwart's grounds to let off some energy, but after the destruction of my classroom, Seth told me to try and give him some space. It's frustrating, though."

Blaise nodded. "I was hoping he'd have calmed down by now. I mean, it's been nearly two weeks since we told him about…um, you know. Us… But he spent most of the weekend reading, or playing with the dogs."

"I'm sure he'll snap out of it, eventually." Hermione smiled tightly. "Um, I meant to ask you something."

"Yes?" Blaise looked over at her, and for a moment she was caught in the brilliant amber of his gaze.

Trying to suppress a blush for staring, Hermione quickly continued. "Halloween is coming up, and I'll have to be in attendance for the entirety of the feast, as well as the small upper- year's ball afterwards. Just in case anyone gets an idea to try and spike the pumpkin juice."

"Or lets a troll into the dungeons." Blaise quibbled, grinning.

Hermione smiled genuinely. "Yes, or that. Anyway, Xander always gets bored at the feast, so he usually goes to the Potter's, but they're taking the kids to Egypt to visit Bill Weasley. Could… would you mind taking him for the night?" Seeing something flicker across Blaise's face, Hermione rushed on. "If you have plans already, or a party to attend, I completely understand. I mean, a Halloween at home won't kill him-"

Blaise cut her off, catching her flailing hands with his own warm ones. Giving them a light squeeze, he smiled. "I'd be delighted to take Alexander for the holiday. I just wasn't sure where I should take him trick- or- treating. Obviously, my neighborhood isn't the ideal place to go knocking on doors, asking for sweets."

"Right. Of course not." Said Hermione. "I think the shop keepers down on Diagon Alley are open to trick- or- treaters, this year. Of course, you'll have to check for anything suspicious, and read all the labels of the candy from Weasley's Wizard Weezes."

"Of course." Blaise agreed steadily. "Also, I filed the paperwork to officially name Alexander as my heir. I haven't actually received confirmation on it yet, but I suspect I will any day now."

"You'll let me know?"

"Of course. As soon as I find out."

Again, the awkward silence stretched between them, and Hermione missed the easy silences they used to share. She realized Blaise's hands were still clasped around her own, and quickly removed them. Abruptly, Blaise stood from his spot on the couch and turned towards fireplace.

"I best be going." He said. "I'll be by on Friday afternoon to pick Alexander up."

"All right. See you later, then." Hermione said. Quickly, Blaise threw a handful of floo powder into the fireplace and was gone.

Her hands had never felt colder.

~(o)~

The muggle neighborhood was quiet when Hermione apparated Xander into the Granger's back garden. She glanced around quickly, ensuring no nosy neighbors had seen their sudden appearance, while Xander nimbly stepped out of her grasp. Hermione tried not to let the hurt show on her face, but her son's continued silence cut to the quick.

Seeing her daughter and grandson through the kitchen window, Teresa Granger, wiped her hands on a dish cloth and threw open the back doors. "Hello, darlings!" she called cheerily, embracing them both. Hermione noticed her glance at Xander's neck, arms, and shirt- Selena had been banned from the Granger home several weeks prior due to a 'No Snake Rule'.

"Hi, Mum." Hermione said, hugging her mother tightly. "How're things?"

"Oh, you know. Daddy seems to think he can fix the leaky pipe in the bathroom better than the repair man." Teresa rolled her eyes in exasperation, and Hermione grinned. The familiarity of the situation was a balm to her raw nerves.

"Hello, Alexander." Teresa greeted her only grandchild warmly, giving him suffocating hug.

"Hi, Nana." Xander said, smiling a little. "Did you say Grandpa was fixing something?"

"Yes, darling, in the bathroom down the hall. I'm sure he'll be happy to take you on as an assistant." Teresa said, giving him a nudge. Xander needed no more encouragement, and quickly disappeared into the house.

"Can I help with anything?" Hermione asked.

"Dinner's nearly ready, but would you mind setting the table?" Teresa asked, peering into the oven at the meal.

"Of course." Hermione easily agreed, taking out her wand. For once, she didn't particularly feel like doing the work manually. Plus, her folks tended to get a kick out of seeing everyday magic.

Teresa laughed and clapped as the plates and silverware danced and bobbed around the table before settling in their correct places, and served the meal soon after that. Thomas, still battling the leaky pipe in the bathroom, welcomed a reprieve from the chore. Once they were all settled into their chairs and the servings had been distributed, Teresa began her plight once again to get Hermione married.

"Hermione, darling, I know just the man. He's a son of one of the dentists we met at a conference. What's Nikol's son's name, Thomas?" She asked Hermione's father.

"Damien. No, Daniel. Daniel Ludwick. He's a neurologist, if I remember correctly. Saw his picture, and I must say he's a rather good- looking fellow."

Hermione smiled thinly. "I'll keep Dalton in mind-"

"Daniel." Teresa corrected.

"-but I don't think I'll be calling any time soon. I'm terribly busy, you see." Hermione continued as if her mother hadn't spoken.

"Too busy for one date?" Thomas questioned doubtfully. "I really think you two would hit it off."

Before Hermione could respond, Xander broke in. "I wouldn't bother, Grandpa. Mother apparently has some issues with commitment."

The table sat in shocked silence for a moment, all three adults staring at Xander as he calmly cut his food.

"Alexander, how could you say something like that about your mother?" Thomas rebuked, shocked.

Hermione held up her hand, stopping her father's lecture. "If you'll both excuse us, I think Xander and I need to have a chat." Standing up, Hermione looked pointedly at her son. He rose from his chair reluctantly, rolling his eyes. As her mouth tightened in displeasure, Hermione reconsidered her parenting choices during the last few weeks. She had intended to simply give her some time and space to adjust, but had evidently come off as lenient instead.

Walking out into the back garden, Hermione sat on the stone bench and gestured to the spot next to her. When Xander remained standing and crossed his arms over his chest stubbornly, Hermione fought to control her temper- she hadn't raised a brat. "Sit. Down." She nearly growled, and he sat quickly. Counting backwards from ten, Hermione got a handle on her frustration and anger.

"Alexander, I will not tolerate that kind of nastiness from you." She began. "I know you're angry. I know you're frustrated. But comments like the one you made are not only nasty, they're extremely disrespectful, and not just to me. When we go back to the table, I want you to apologize to both Grandpa and Nana. Am I understood?"

Staring down at his feet, Xander nodded morosely without meeting her eyes.

"Now, I don't think we can put this off any longer. I thought you deal better with the news, given space and time, but that was obviously a mistake on my part. Please tell me what's bothering you."

"I just don't get why you and Father couldn't stay together! It isn't fair." Xander nearly shouted, startling her with his suddenness.

Hermione let out a fast, frustrated breath. "Alexander, your dad and I already explained this to you. There are just things between us that aren't well-matched."

"But we were so happy." Xander argued, his tone pleading. "Things were really good for the three of us. Like a real family."

"Xander, sweetheart, why are you so determined to make us a 'real' family?" Hermione asked, "You still get to see your dad on the weekends, and we got along alright before he came into the picture."

"Yeah, but people won't see me the same." Xander's voice was quieter, now.

Turning her head sharply, Hermione felt her hackles rise. "Has someone said something to you?" she questioned. "Honestly, some people are _so_ closed- minded, it just makes me sick! I'm going to-"

Xander hurried to cut her off, placing one of his small hands on his mother's arm. "Mother, no, it's not that. Not really, at least. Most everyone is really nice… But I heard _Nonna_ Elena telling Father that people in 'the real world' would treat me different, and that he couldn't protect me forever. And that you have 'issues with commitment' and weren't fit to be my mum. And then she said she would find me the 'right kind' of mother, so I could live with him all the time, but Mother, I don't want a new mum, I want to stay with you!"

"She really said that?" asked Hermione, a little dazed at Elena's blatantly insulting remark.

"Yeah, and then some more stuff, but in Italian so I didn't understand it. And then Father yelled some more and made her leave. She was really, really cross when she left, though."

"Xander, you listen to me. That woman is poison- she brings out the absolute worst in people. Your dad and I didn't…part ways… because of commitment issues, it was because we're just too different. But I don't want you to worry; your father and I love you so, so much and no one could ever replace me as your mum, alright? "

Nodding, Xander snuggled into her side and Hermione kissed his curly mop of hair. "I love you, little one." She whispered.

"I love you too, Mother." He whispered back. The pair sat on the bench for several minutes, but before long the sun had set and night had begun its reign.

"I think we've kept Grandpa and Nana waiting long enough." Hermione said. "Remember, I want you to apologize for your behavior."

Xander nodded morosely, and they made their way back into the dining room. After Xander's apology, the conversation around the table flowed easily. As soon as his plate was cleared, Teresa hurriedly brought the youngster a bowl of chocolate ice cream, just to show that "no one had any hard feelings."

Hermione groaned as he zealously dug into the frozen treat, much to his grandparent's amusement. She idly wondered how long it would take him to get to sleep.

"Hermione, darling, would you help me in the kitchen?" Teresa broke into her musings.

"Of course, Mum." Hermione acquiesced, grabbing the leftover meal on her way into the kitchen. Teresa had already begun to fill the sink with hot water, and was loading dirty dishes into the soapy water basin. Knowing her mother had something on her mind, Hermione washed the dishes in silence, handing them to Teresa to be rinsed and dried. The muggle radio softly played on the windowsill, and Hermione began to relax for the first time in…well, a long time.

Her fingertips had gone pruney by the time the inquisition began.

"Anything you'd like to share with the class?" Teresa asked casually next to her. Hermione paused for a moment in her washing before continuing steadily. "You haven't brought Alexander around for quite a while. Daddy and I were beginning to worry."

Hermione took a deep, shuddering breath. The sound of concern in her mother's voice was making her emotional. Memories from long ago flitted though her thoughts; recounting some cruel prank Malfoy had played on her, or the petty, whispered comments made by her roommates late at night.

Smiling tightly, Hermione forced her hand to put some more soap on her sponge. Her knuckles were turning white from the tight grip. "You know how it is Mum." She said with forced cheerfulness. "We've been so busy with school. Nothing terribly important, though."

"Oh, I don't think I believe that." Teresa said doubtfully as she rinsed her hands off in the sink. "I know you're a big girl now, with a family of your own, but you're still my child. A mother can tell these things."

Swallowing thickly, Hermione turned to look at her mother. "Oh, Mum, I think I've mucked something up." Hermione confessed. "And I don't know how to set it right again."

The faint lines around Teresa's eyes crinkled as she smiled sadly. "Hermione, I'm not going to pry into your life. But I will say this: Daddy and I didn't raise you to be a ninny. If you think you've botched something up, then fix it. There's really no value in moping around, and I know how smart you are. Put that brilliant mind to use."

Nodding slowly, Hermione drained the soapy water from the sink, thinking the wise words over. By the time she lead a tired Xander out of the house, her spirit was feeling much less burdened. Preparing to apparate them away, Hermione couldn't help but smile. Things would turn out alright, she just _knew_ it.

~(o)~

"She's alive!" Ron crowed as Hermione stepped into a small bistro in Diagon Alley. The other patrons turned in their seats, searching for the source of commotion. Upon discovery, they all give indulgent smiles and turn back to their meals. It was just the Golden Trio, after all. Hermione often thought that the three of them could do anything at all, and get away with it; a perk of being one of society's darlings.

Hermione gave a small smile as she waded through the tables toward them. Harry looked tired but happy, managing to get through the sleepless nights that came with fatherhood and being an auror. Ron, skin still clinging to a bit of a Quidditch tan, looked like the pinnacle of health. Thanks to the last few stressful weeks, Hermione knew she paled in comparison.

Upon reaching the table, both of her best friends stood and embraced her. Both held her a little tighter than what was absolutely necessary, but she appreciated the gesture.

A waiter zipped over and pulled out her chair, writing down her drink order a moment later. Left in relative privacy, the trio automatically slumped into their usual positions- Ron braced intertwined fingers under his chin, elbows propped on the table top. Harry slouched back a little in his seat, curving his spine against the chair. Hermione neatly folded her hands on the table, forearms resting against the linen surface. As she assumed her usual position, Hermione realized she had missed this easy, familiar camaraderie.

Although all of magical England seemed to know about Hermione and Blaise's break up several weeks prior, Harry and Ron stayed mercifully silent on the topic. Instead, they talked about the mundane happenings in their lives.

Dean Thomas and Hannah Abbot had finally set a date for their wedding, and the Creevy brothers had landed a spot in a much- anticipated art show in London during the following month. Harry reported that Luna had signed up for a muggle psychology class at the local university, much to Hermione's amusement. If anyone would be able to appreciate the course, she thought, it would be Luna.

As their lunches were served, the talk inevitably turned to Quidditch. Ron was coming to terms with the Cannon's defeat in the Quidditch World Cup.

"The owners were quite pleased, actually," he explained casually. "They made a fortune in merchandise and sponsors this year, plenty to go around. I don't really think they expected us to win- the Quiberon Quafflepunchers were really good this year- but now the Cannon's have their name back on the board. Plus, we'll have a decent chance at the cup again next year."

Hermione hummed politely, hoping the topic would turn soon. The magical sport held little interest for her, but Ron's next words changed her mind.

"Of course, I'll have to go up against Gin in the British and Irish League's competition, since she's signed on for Puddlemere." He said, shrugging. "Hope mum doesn't ban pick-up games at Yule again this year."

Hermione's head jerked up from her meal. "Wait, what did you say?" she questioned sharply, causing her best friend to raise their eyebrows in surprise.

"Don't you remember? The Christmas before Gin and I got signed on to play pro, she wouldn't let us play any pick- up games. Said it encouraged 'unfriendly competitiveness between family' or some such rot." Ron said, shaking his head in mock disbelief.

"No, no, before that. You said Ginny was getting signed on for the Puddlemere United team." Hermione cut in impatiently.

Ron's expression turned sheepish. "Woops. 'Spose that wasn't supposed to become common knowledge yet, was it?" He grinned mischievously, glancing at Harry and Hermione before lowering his voice. "Just between us, right? I was at the Burrow the other night, dropping off some owl treats for Errol. Anyway, Gin floo'ed in, and started screeching that the owners of Puddlemere had contacted her manager, saying they wanted her on their reserve next year. Kind of weird, since it came out of the blue, but Gin can't be picky since the Harpies dropped the whole team. So she signed her contract papers day before yesterday, and Oliver Wood came 'round to welcome her to the team. Always liked Wood, myself."

As Harry and Ron launched into a discussion about Wood's Quidditch prowess, Hermione's mind contemplated this new information, and how she viewed Blaise as a result.

Only the day before, Hermione had made a point to remind the headmistress of Hooch's replacement. She had been certain that Blaise's side of their deal wouldn't have been upheld due to their break up. The new information twisted something in her stomach; something that felt suspiciously like guilt.

"Hermione? Hermione? Hello, earth to Professor Granger?" Harry waved a hand in front of her face, trying to jog her back into the present. When she visibly snapped back to the present, he grinned.

"Er, sorry." Hermione said sheepishly. "What were you saying?"

"We were asking about Xander." Harry said patiently. "How's he dealing with… well, you know. The thing with Zabini."

Hermione sighed heavily, rubbing her temples. "It's been a bit of a roller coaster, to be honest." She paused as Harry explained the metaphor to Ron before continuing. "At first, he was really, really upset. Blew up half my classroom."

"I thought his, um- condition-" Ron started hesitantly.

"E.C.E.S." Hermione provided.

"Right, that. I though he didn't blow stuff up anymore." Ron continued.

"Overall, he's made some good progress. This was his first episode since he's started treatment. Anyway, then he got quiet. I mean, I know he's usually quiet, but this was almost complete silence. Didn't listen to me at all, and refused to talk. I asked his specialist, when he went on Tuesday, but Seth just told me to give him some time and space. It took a while, but we eventually got past it. Now he's pretty much back to normal."

"And Zabini? How's he taking it?"

Hermione shrugged. "We agreed that he would get to have Xander from Friday afternoon to Sunday evening, which has turned out alright so far. I used to think it would be nice to have some time to myself during the weekends, but now that Xander's gone, it's a little hard to adjust to. I think he has a good time with his dad, though. They're going to Hamley's Toy Shop today… No matter what you say about Blaise, you can't deny he's a good father."

Harry and Ron both grumbled into their glasses, but voiced no discrepancy against the statement. Their complaining was cut short by the grandfather clock in the room as it chimed five times. Glancing down at her watch in disbelief, she realized their talking had lasted for several hours.

"Is that really the time?" she asked, shocked. "Merlin, I'm going to be late picking up Xander from Blaise's. I've got to run." Collecting her coat, she threw a few galleons on the table.

"I'll see you at Teddy and Xander's 'Parent's Night', then?" Harry asked as he embraced her.

Hermione smiled. "Wouldn't miss it for the world." She reassured him before hugging Ron goodbye.

Taking a moment to center herself, Hermione aparated away.

* * *

><p><em>Translations:<em>

"_Nonna_" (Italian)

-Grandmother, grandma, etc.

* * *

><p>Chapter Twenty- One Author's Note:<p>

The Review button is there for a reason. Just throwin' that out there!

Gotbooks93


	22. TWENTY TWO

**Time's Up by Gotbooks93**

**Summary: **_After successfully hiding the existence of her son for eight years, Hermione is out of luck and time. When the father of her child discovers her secret, their quiet worlds are changed forever. Join Hermione as she takes on the challenges of co-parenting, snake charming, and a crazy little thing called 'love'._

_**Disclaimer: I own many things, but not any recognizable characters, things, or places in the Harry Potter series. Somehow, I doubt that JKR would agree to joint custody…shame, that.**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>CHAPTER TWENTY- TWO<strong>_

All around her, the crowd roared. Some screamed and cheered their support, others booed and jeered in displeasure. Indeed, even some of the adults- grossly outnumbered by their charges- had gotten caught up in the undeniable energy emitted within the stadium.

Quidditch matches tended to make people a bit mad.

The Hufflepuff- Slytherin match was proving to be an exciting one. The Slytherin team, armed with a fantastically talented seeker, was behind in points, and their housemates were acting accordingly; jibes were made about the Hufflepuff player's brooms, house, and mothers. Hermione watched the stands closely, scanning for anyone brave- or dumb- enough to throw a jinx at one of the players.

Compensating for a less keen seeker, the Hufflepuffs were ahead by thirty points, much to Professor Sprout's approval. The matronly witch was humming happily in her seat, clapping good- naturedly whenever a point was scored by either team. Hermione, however, wasn't fooled. She knew that twenty galleons were riding on the outcome of the game, thanks to a friendly bet made between Pomona and Professor Benley.

As a rather complicated play was made by the Slytherins, Xander gave a cheer beside her. He had made no secret of his support of the Slytherin team, decked out in a silver and green scarf, waving a snake- embroidered flag. She knew full well that the accessories had not been provided by herself or any of her (mainly Gryffindor) friends. Naturally, she suspected her son's father.

As the thought of him entered her mind, Hermione's eyes darted around, searching. While dropping Xander off on Sunday, he had casually mentioned he would be attending the match. Naturally, Hermione had invited him to sit with them- something she cursed herself for upon his departure.

It wasn't that they were unfriendly, per se. Indeed, the conversation between them in the last few months had been downright civil. 'Acceptable' areas of conversation included Xander, his job, her job, and most of their former schoolmates. The one exception to this last category was, to Hermione's surprise, Pansy Parkinson.

The announcement had come during one of the 'Parent Nights' held by Xander's school.

"It's funny how fast he's grown up." Hermione reflected as they strolled down one of the school's hallways. She paused, pointing through an open door. "That's Xander's old classroom. He absolutely hated his teacher; he was convinced she was completely incompetent even though he was only six. But that was the year he got really close with Teddy Lupin."

Blaise poked his head into the classroom, running his eyes over the teacher, who sat at her desk. Facing Hermione, he nodded with mock seriousness. "Completely incompetent." He agreed, earning himself a slap on the arm. They continued down the corridor.

"Seriously, though, I hope Harry and Luna are ready for it. Already, I feel like James and Albus were born just yesterday. Not to mention Gin and Pansy, once they adopt." She mused.

Blaise paused in the middle of the hallway, his jaw tense. Despite his obvious signs of distress, he remained silent. A moment later, he began walking again.

"Blaise?" Hermione asked, confused. "Is everything alright?"

His eyes cut to her, conflicted. "Pansy and I recently met, and our conversation was…less than cordial."

Carefully, Hermione questioned him further. "What was your conversation about?"

"Plenty of things, since we had a lot to catch up on. She's been avoiding me since my return to England. But mainly, you and Alexander."

Her brow furrowed. "And?"

"I was obviously…displeased… by her deception, concerning Alexander's birth. Her reasoning for her silence was unsatisfactory." He spat the words, his eyes hard.

"But she was only trying to protect us. Or, more than likely, she was trying to avoid conflict with Ginny!"

Blaise gently tugged her elbow into a sparsely populated side hall, his mouth set in a firm line. His eyes snapped with repressed emotion. "Hermione, Pansy and I have known each other since our infancy. She was one of my closest friends in childhood, and through Hogwarts. She was my sole confidant when we were first dating. I supported her… unorthodox… relationship with Ginevera. Who, mind you, was not only another female but a _Weasley_. And all this time, she was keeping the biggest news of my life from me. That I had a _child_."

Hermione opened her mouth, and then closed it. She had been rendered speechless by the mix of anger, hurt, and passion in his voice.

"If ever there was a time to remember her loyalty to a life- long friend, it would be then. Instead, she chose to side with her love interest. And so, despite her insistence otherwise, she has taken a side, and it isn't mine. In the future, please don't mention that woman in my presence, because I have absolutely nothing to say about- or _to_- her."

The memory was broken as she felt a large, warm hand on the small of her back. "Sorry I'm late, got held up in negotiations." His voice said over the noise of the crowd.

Hermione smiled serenely, trying to force down the flutter in her stomach, an instant reaction from his touch. "No problem." She said easily. "Although, I feel that I must inform you that your team is losing by thirty-" she paused as a bell struck loudly, "excuse me, _forty_ points."

Blaise flashed one of his devastating smiles, shrugging off his heavy outer robes. Although it was already mid- November, the day had dawned bright and clear, and uncannily warm. Beneath his heavy outer robes, Blaise sported his usual pressed suit and shiny shoes, tailored to fit perfectly. Hermione tore her eyes away from Blaise's fit frame, unintentionally meeting his eyes. They were equal parts amused and aroused, sending blood into Hermione's cheeks in a becoming blush. She hurriedly turned back to the stadium, hoping the flush could be attributed to the weather.

"They're just lulling the competition into a false sense of security." Blaise continued, his eyes on the players above. "After all, Hufflepuffs are notoriously easy to fool."

"Hufflepuff has a pretty solid team this year." Hermione defended. "And if you go by the odds in the teacher's betting pool, they have a good shot at making it into the finals."

Blaise's eyes cut to Hermione's, and the look in them made her lose track of reality, if only for a moment. It was because of that look, she reflected, that he had managed to so craftily manipulate their relationship.

"How confidant are you in Hufflepuff's team?" He asked, his voice casual.

Hermione forced her gaze away from his, her eyes scanning the field as the match continued. The crowd suddenly erupted as a Hufflepuff chaser made a goal, setting the score at fifty to one hundred. Grinning, she turned back to the handsome Italian wizard.

"What're the stakes?" She asked.

Briefly, Blaise appeared thoughtful. "If I win, you spend an evening with me, participating in the activities of my choice." His eyes were like hot embers, surrounded by sensual dark lashes. Hermione's breath quickly became unsteady as her heart raced.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, a sensible sounding voice spoke up, warning her of the repercussions of his statement. Another part of her brain, enthralled by the idea of his tantalizing touch once again gliding over her body, told the sensible to shut up. Hermione's expression must have displayed her inner turmoil, because Blaise's gaze gentled a little, and he leaned in to whisper in her ear.

"Don't worry about that, _cara_. When I get you back into my bed, it will because we've finally gotten things straightened out. Your conscious seems to be quite a bit louder in the morning, and I'd rather not wake up alone."

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, although she wasn't entirely sure what to say. Her relief was palpable when Xander rushed up to their spot in the stands. He had wandered down, closer to the railings, but had rushed back to her side upon seeing his father.

"Father, we're losing!" Xander exclaimed, his tone almost a whine.

"Not to worry, _figlio_," Blaise soothed. "We still have plenty of time to catch the snitch, and our seeker has barely broken a sweat."

Looking at the player hovering high above, Hermione wasn't sure how he could tell, but the statement calmed their son a little. After gaining the assurance that yes, Blaise would stay until the game ended, he raced back down the steps until he leaned on the railing between Professors Benley and Gupta.

As the game progressed, Hermione and Blaise lapsed into conversation, discussing Seamus Finnigan's new bar, which was opening in Hogsmeade.

"It's gotten everyone up in a bit of a tizzy." Hermione confided quietly. "Most of the Hogsmeade community is pleased with the idea, since they don't get to go to Diagon Alley much. But of course, Rosmera is concerned about the competition. After all, the only other bar in the town is the Hog's Head, and that can hardly be considered opposition."

Blaise nodded, clapping politely as Slytherin stole the quaffle. "Most of the people who drink at the Hog's Head are only there because they've been banned from The Three Broomsticks, anyway."

"It wouldn't surprise me if she came around to see McGonagall one of these days. It's one thing for students to go to the Three Broomsticks on their visits, but Finnigan's is an adult bar. Seamus better put an age line at the door, so they don't accidentally serve any minors alcohol. Although, I just know a couple of the students would try anyway, and some of them are terribly clever."

"Not cleverer than the Weasley twins, I'd wager." Blaise deliberated. "If I remember correctly, they've already had a run-in with age lines before, and didn't escaped unscathed."

Hermione laughed loudly, recalling the bearded versions of Fred and George. Her laugh gained a few questioning looks from her fellow teachers, causing her focus to re-direct to the match. Although her eyes had settled on the players, Hermione's attention was split.

The knowledge that Pansy and Blaise's long friendship had ended had eaten at her over the past few weeks. She had kept quiet about it, until meeting with Ginny for tea the previous week. When Hermione revealed she knew about the two friend's split, the fiery redhead had confided that Pansy was distressed over the break.

"They've been friends for so long." Ginny had sighed. "Used to write letters all the time, and floo- call at least once a month. It's been rather hard on her, and I can't help but feel I'm at least partially responsible. I was the one to ask her to keep it quiet for all these years."

"No, no." Hermione had assured her, placing her own hand over Ginny's freckled one. "You were just being a good friend to me. If anyone's responsible, it's me…I should have told him about Alexander a long time ago."

As the shadows grew longer over the Quidditch field, Hermione became more resolved. "Blaise, I know what I want, if Hufflepuff wins."

Blaise looked a little surprised, but pleased. "Are we still doing that, then?"

Hermione nodded. "If Slytherin wins, we'll spend an evening engaging in the 'activity of your choice', which bars any and all sensual deeds. If Hufflepuff wins, you have to talk to Pansy. And not just talk, but really give her a chance to make up for her… duplicity."

The entire stadium shot to their feet as a Hufflepuff player tumbled from her broom while attempting a steep dive. The stadium went silent as Madam Hooch and Pomfrey rushed to the player. A few moments later, the girl stood on slightly unsteady legs, and waved to the crowd. However, she had one arm cradled to her chest, and the Hufflepuff reserve player soon soared onto the field. The game resumed.

Reassured by the change in the player lineup, Blaise held out his hand. "Alright, Granger, I agree to your terms."

Only letting herself pause for a moment, Hermione took Blaise's hand, shaking firmly. Meeting his eyes, she smiled. "Just try not to cry _too_ much when I win."

~(o)~

Hours later, she was eating her words as the Slytherin team flew their victory lap around the pitch. The scoreboard showed a close game, at one hundred and ninety to two hundred and twenty. Beside her, Blaise was tugging on a pair of leather winter gloves. He waved goodbye to Xander, who jumped up and down, mouthing "We won!" as he waved his Slytherin Pride flag excitedly. Blaise smiled indulgently in reply.

Turning to face her, Blaise nodded cordially, his eyes dancing with triumph. "I'll be in touch, Ms. Granger. Good evening."

Watching Blaise walked away, hands shoved in his pockets and a bounce in his step, Hermione scowled. Bloody Slytherins.

~(o)~

Hermione walked slowly around the edges of the classroom, stopping every few feet to examine something pinned to the wall of the room. More than once, she spotted Xander's messy scrawl, some assignment that his tutor had deemed appropriate to display. One bulletin board, with the title "Student Art" caught her eye.

A few pictures were simple, drawings in colored ink. One section had several origami figures pinned to it, while a collage of Quidditch photographs was pasted together in a loud montage of color and moving shapes. Then, tucked into a corner, was a medium black-and-white photograph. After a moment, Hermione recognized the scene- it was one of the small back courtyards in Hogwarts. In the photograph, a lone student perched on a stone bench, reading a book. Occasionally, she would turn a page or tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. It was Ella Walters, one of Hermione's fourth year students, and she seemed unaware of the photographer.

Peering more closely at the photograph, Hermione grinned proudly. The caption scribbled across the bottom read 'Alexander Granger- Zabini'. Straightening, she turned to face the room once more, searching for Xander in the crowd.

She didn't immediately find him, but did spot his tutor. The older man was speaking lowly to two aurors, who were immediately recognizable by their blue and crimson robes. Just as she processed what she was seeing, a finger was thrust in her direction and the aurors both caught her in their sights.

A moment later, they were weaving through the crowd towards her. Her first instinct was to back away, but she squashed the impulse. She hadn't done anything wrong, and running would just make matters worse.

Within seconds, the aurors- a man and a woman- had made it within earshot. "Excuse me, Madam. We're from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry of Magic. We have a few questions for you. Are you Hermione Granger?" the man asked, and Hermione noticed the name pinned to the front of his uniform read 'DAVIES'.

"I am. Can I help you?" Hermione asked, puzzled.

Before she had even finished her sentence, the female auror stepped forward and swiftly locked a set of magical hand cuffs around her wrists. The cold metal bit into her skin. In a firm voice, she stated, "Ms. Granger, you're under arrest."

Hermione tried to think through the haze of shock. "Excuse me, but I'm sure there's some mistake." All around her, parents and their children were beginning to take note of the arrest. "And couldn't we straighten this out in a more _discreet_ location?"

The female auror exchanged a glance at her partner, then looked back at her. "Of course, Ms. Granger, although that location will have to be the auror offices. We have instructions to take you to headquarters without delay."

Davies, looking slightly embarrassed, nodded in agreement. "Sorry, ma'am, it's just orders."

Both aurors then clasped a firm hand around each of her arms, steadily tugging her towards the room's doorway. On their way out, Hermione's eyes connected with the aged blue ones of Xander's teacher. The man looked quickly away, picking up a few random papers and peering at them intently. Hermione suppressed a snort at his cowardice.

The aurors escorted her from the building, into the open air of the school's playground. Her footsteps seemed awfully loud, and her palms were beginning to sweat. Just as she was beginning to feel a bit light- headed, she attempted to keep some semblance of calm. Panicking would get her nowhere. She hadn't done anything wrong. She hadn't done anything wrong.

Her mantra was broken when she suddenly spotted Blaise through one of the school's windows. As she spotted him, he did a double- take, his usually calm expression showing unadulterated shock.

Blaise disappeared out of view for a moment before barging out of one of the exterior doors.

He rapidly assessed the scene before him before striding over to the trio. Spotting Hermione's metal- clad wrists, his eyes blazed with fury. "What is the meaning of this?" He asked so coldly, Hermione imagined she could see icicles form in the air.

Davies straightened to his full, but unimpressive, height and spoke authoritatively, all traces of his earlier uncertainty gone. "Excuse me, sir, but you're interfering with official auror business. In the name of the Ministry of Magic's Law Enforcement Department, I must ask you to step aside immediately."

If possible, Blaise's gaze became even frostier. "Auror... Davies, is it? Auror Davies, I must disagree with your assessment. As Ms. Granger's legal counsel, I have every right to monitor her arrest. Now, Hermione, what are the charges?"

"Well, I suppose I'm not sure." Hermione admitted. "They haven't told me."

One of Blaise's eyebrows arched, and a smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. "Oh, they haven't? Well, that's a bit of a blunder, isn't it?"

Both aurors flushed, and the woman opened her mouth, but snapped it shut when Blaise glared at her before turning to Hermione. "For every legal arrest aurors make, they're obligated to immediately read you your rights and explain what you're being arrested for. Obviously, you were about to be transported to the Ministry holding cells, implying you have been in custody for several minutes. Unless you've proven to be uncooperative or hostile, which I'm guessing you haven't?"

Hermione shook her head, answering his question. She was glad she had Blaise for a lawyer, impromptu or not.

Auror Davies cleared his throat. "Well, we should probably correct our…blunder, Ms. Granger. I hereby arrest you in the name of the Ministry. You have the right to remain silent; anything you say can and will be used against you before the Wizengamot. Should you feel your arrest or charges are unjustified, you may present your opinion during trial. You have the right to an attorney; should you be unable to afford a licensed attorney, one will be provided for you." At this, he glanced at Blaise, who simply raised a brow, his expression disdainful. Davies hurried on.

"Finally, should health or safety concerns be raised, for any reason, the Ministry reserves the right to search you and your properties at any time until the charges against you have been resolved. The charges are as follows," He paused, unfolded a sheet of parchment, and cleared his throat again. "Hermione Granger, you are being arrested for the following unlawful acts: child abuse, child negligence, and erratic conduct as a parent. Now, Ms. Granger, you'll need to come with us. We will apparate in… five, four, three, two, _one_."

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><p><em>Translations:<em>

_"Cara" _(Italian)

-Term of endearment; dear, darling

_"Figlio" _(Italian)

-Son

* * *

><p>Chapter Twenty Two Author's Note:<p>

Auror Davies' arrest statement was primarily based on the United State's Miranda Rights, although bits and pieces came from other countries. I think I got most of the Quidditch bits correct, too, but feel free to let me if I messed up! I don't have much more to say about this chapter's plot, although I'm sure you all do!

A great way to get your words out there is by reviewing!

Gotbooks93


	23. TWENTY THREE

**Time's Up by Gotbooks93**

**Summary: **_After successfully hiding the existence of her son for eight years, Hermione is out of luck and time. When the father of her child discovers her secret, their quiet worlds are changed forever. Join Hermione as she takes on the challenges of co-parenting, snake charming, and a crazy little thing called 'love'._

_**Disclaimer: I own many things, but not any recognizable characters, things, or places in the Harry Potter series. Somehow, I doubt that JKR would agree to joint custody…shame, that.**_

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><p><em><strong>CHAPTER TWENTY- THREE<strong>_

It was sort of interesting, being on the other side of the law. The room was cool, bordering on cold, and a single, bare bulb hung from the ceiling. The table in front of her was metal, riddled with scratches and engravings that stood out in the dull light. Walls and ceiling look like concrete, with a pane of one- way glass to her left.

All in all, Hermione thought the decorators had seen too many episodes of _Law and Order_.

Across the table, Blaise flicked through a small folder. His eyes skim each page, pausing longer on some parts than others. Hermione decided not to break his concentration by asking questions, although a million different ones had come to mind. At length, Blaise flipped the folder closed and looked at her directly, determination clear on his face.

"Alright, here's the deal: the formal request for arrest was from the Division for Protection of Magical Children, but it was based on information provided by a source that wishes to remain anonymous. They're taking you to court for child neglect, abuse, and erratic conduct as a parent. Worst case scenario, you lose custody of Alexander, get a hefty fine, and possibly do time in Azkaban." Hermione felt the blood drain from her face, and Blaise leaned forward. "Best case scenario, you get cleared of all charges, get back custody of and get the opportunity to file a countersuit against the Ministry for unlawful charges, mental distress, etcetera. Not something I'd suggest, but that's up to you."

Hermione nodded, soaking in the information. After a moment, he continued. "Now, child custody cases aren't my specialty, but I'll ask around the office, see if anyone's willing to help. To be honest, I'm not worried; a lot of people owe me some favors."

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Without waiting for a reply, an auror barged in, looking disgruntled. "Zabini, there's just been a floo call for you. Apparently, your kid's school is closing for the night, and they need someone to take him home." The auror turned around, leaving as quickly as he had appeared.

Blaise turned back to her, opening his mouth to speak. Hermione beat him to the punch. "Go." She encouraged. "Reassure him that I'm fine, and that there's just been a misunderstanding."

Blaise hesitated before standing. "I'll floo Potter, so expect him soon. He's probably used to getting called away at the middle of the night, by now. Alexander can stay with me, and I'll come see you tomorrow about your case."

Hermione nodded, trying to keep the panic from her face. Since her arrest, Blaise had been her shield; preventing the aurors from throwing her in a holding cell, slinging around complicated- sounding legal jargon like it was another language.

After dropping a quick kiss on her forehead, he left the room without looking back. She is only alone for a few minutes before Harry barged in, looking harassed. "Bloody idiots." He swore, kicking the door shut behind him.

Facing her, Harry shot her a sympathetic look. "Rough night?" he asked as he took the seat Blaise had vacated.

Hermione smiled faintly. "You have no idea."

"I'll be honest, when Zabini mentioned you needed my help, this was the last thing I thought it would be. I'm glad he contacted me, though. Half of these morons don't know what the hell they're doing, and it never hurts to have someone on the inside." Hermione nodded in agreement, watching as he too flipped through the file. Finishing it, Harry ran his hands through his hair, elbows on the table. Hermione thought he looked rather tired, and grimaced guiltily. If it weren't for her, Harry would be home with his boys and wife.

The Boy- Who- Lived looked up, green eyes cautious. "I need to ask you a few questions. I want you to hear me out, think them through, and try to keep emotion out of it. Don't let your feelings affect your answers."

Hermione took a deep breath, held it, and let it out in a gust. "Fire away, Auror Potter."

Harry nodded, but looked a little dubious. If she was being honest, she wasn't sure she'd be able to keep her cool, either, but was determined to give it a shot.

"Alright. Now as you know, the source of information wishes to remain anonymous, which isn't unusual in a case like this. But I need you to think; who would want to separate you and Xander? Who thinks you're a bad mum?"

Even the insinuation of her bad parenting had Hermione's hackles up. Harry hurriedly raised both hands, palms out. "_I'm_ not saying you're a bad mother, but we need to make a list of suspects. Now, answer the question."

Hermione calmed herself, and was silent as she thought. She didn't think it could be someone from work; both students and staff tended to fawn over her son, much to Xander's annoyance.

Harry gently interrupted Hermione's train of thought, placing a hand over her forearm. "Hermione, where's Xander right now?" He hedged.

"Blaise went back to the school to pick him up." Hermione said distractedly, still running through a list of possibilities in her mind. "He'll stay at the manor until this is all sorted out."

"That was nice of him." Harry commented.

"It's not really about niceness, Harry. I mean, he's Xander's father, and Blaise is always happy for them to spend time together." Hermione said dismissively. Then, a thought occurred to her. "Harry, you're not upset that he didn't stay with you and Luna, are you? I mean, in the past, Xander stayed with you guys when I was busy, but now that Blaise is in the picture…" She trailed off, watching her best friend's face closely.

Harry quickly shook his head, his face still troubled. "No, it's not that, although he's always welcome to stay with Luna and I. But, Hermione, have you considered that… Well, that maybe Zabini was the anonymous source?"

Hermione wretched her arm out from under his, feeling as though she had been slapped. "Harry, how could you say something like that?" She questioned, going on the defensive.

"Hermione, you need to think about this. You _know_ Zabini wants Xander to live with him, and this would be a good way to accomplish that. He's from one of the old families, and they tend to be really traditional. It would make sense, for him to try and get full custody by making you seem like an unfit mother."

Hermione was already shaking her head. "Harry, I know that's how it looks, but Blaise has made it clear that he wants Xander to know both his parents. Besides, he was helping me with the aurors, earlier. If he was working against me, why wouldn't he just make an outright claim, instead of being an anonymous source of information?"

"Because then he'd be formally categorized by the ministry as the plaintiff. If he made a formal claim, he wouldn't be able to keep Xander, because that would give him the opportunity to influence a potential witness." His logic was sound, but part of Hermione still protested. Blaise had always been clear: he wanted Xander to experience the love of both his parents. He wouldn't do this…would he?

"Hermione, who's known as one of the most brilliant attorneys in the wizarding world?"

"Blaise." Hermione admitted.

"And haven't you said he can be very cunning, when it suits his agenda?" Harry continued.

She nodded, still reluctant. "Yes, he can be. But it still doesn't seem quite right. Like I'm missing something."

Harry huffed, frustrated. "Zabini is a Slytherin, through and through. He's ambitious, he's sneaky, and he's not averse to using underhanded tactics to achieve his means. This whole thing reeks of deceit. Seriously, who else would gain from your loss of guardianship?"

Hermione thought furiously, brows furrowed. Several minutes passed, causing Harry to get more and more exasperated. Finally, he stood, his metal chair scraping loudly against the concrete floor. "Look, 'Mione, if you're too blind to see that Zabini is trying to steal Xander right from under you, then that's your business. I'll support you, regardless of your decision, but I that doesn't mean I'll agree with it."

Hermione nodded, swallowing hard. Harry was her best friend, and she knew she could count on his support. But she still felt as if she was missing something. Every time she tried to focus on what it was, the thought would slip away. Like she was trying to catch smoke with her bare hands.

"Now, your trail will probably take place in the next week or so, since abuse cases tend to take priority. You're not allowed to have any contact with Xander until then. No face- to- face visits, no floo calls, and no owls. I suggest you don't try and break any of the rules; if the Wizengamot found out, they'd probably condemn you before your trial even started."

Hermione nodded, albeit grudgingly. The thought of being cut off from her child for so long was like a stab in the chest. And, Merlin forbid, what if she lost her case? The idea of never seeing Xander again was agony.

"I strongly suggest you get a lawyer; I'd prefer it was someone other than Zabini, of course, but that's your choice. If not for the trial, then for the press and public. Whenever public figures like you go to court, the vultures go into a frenzy. Release an official statement, but be careful. Dealing with the press is like a double- edged sword; If they're on your side, you're golden. If not… well, not so much. If you get a decent lawyer, they'll probably start asking you to think of witnesses to call, to vouch for you as a mum. I can't testify, because I'm an auror, and it's a conflict of interest. But I'm sure Luna will, and the Weasleys too. Try to get a hold of Charlie."

Hermione agreed. "Those all sound like good suggestions... So… am I going to Azkaban?" She asked, trying to keep the fear out of her voice.

Harry smiled a little, shaking his head. "No, you're not going to Azkaban. Technically, they don't have evidence that you've done anything wrong- the anonymous tip is enough to bring you in for questioning, but not enough to hold you, unless you confess. They'll schedule a court date, confiscate any children in your care, and make sure you don't try to leave the country. I'll say I conducted your official questioning, and deemed you fit to leave."

Hermione stepped forward, embracing her friend. She sniffled a little, the long day catching up with her. "Sometimes, it's nice to have friends in high places." She said quietly.

Harry chuckled, placing a hand on each of her shoulders. "One of the few perks of being best friends with The Chosen One, I expect." He joked.

Hermione smiled, feeling a little better. They soon left the interrogation room, stopping at the desk outside. A bored- looking auror cast _Termino iter_ on her, which restricted movement outside of the United Kingdom. The same auror informed her that her trial would take place in eight days, and asked if she had legal counsel. After confirming that she did, Hermione was told she was 'free to go'.

Walking through the maze of cubicles, the pair came to the large entrance that separated the Magical Law Enforcement division from the rest of the Ministry.

"Everything's going to be alright, Hermione." Harry said seriously. Hermione did her best to smile back, although it ended up as more of a grimace.

"Thanks for everything, Harry." She said. "I'll talk to you soon, yeah?"

He nodded slowly, watching her face closely. "Yeah. Seriously, though, give my Zabini theory some thought. I know he's kind of a blind spot with you, but don't dismiss it."

Hermione rolled her eyes, already tired of the conversation. "Good night Harry." She called as she walked away. She heard his answering "Good night" behind her, followed by the sound of his retreating footsteps.

~(o)~

Apparently, boring elevator rides were universal. Hermione leaned tiredly against one wall, listening to the generic female voice announce each level as she descended further into the Ministry. Unexpectedly, the elevator stopped on the ninth floor, which housed both the Wizengamot's courtrooms and the Department of Mysteries.

Hermione frowned. The hour was late, and the Ministry was mostly deserted. The only people left were a few late- shift aurors, various workaholics, and… Draco Malfoy?

Both Hermione and Malfoy were visibly startled as the elevator doors slid open, revealing their presence to the other. After a moment of awkward silence, Malfoy dipped his head in greeting and stepped into the elevator. "Granger."

Hermione nodded in return. "Malfoy." She replied, a little uneasy. "Er, how's Mandy?"

"She's good." He said casually. "Up to her ears in wedding crap."

Hermione nodded. "That makes sense. It's next week, right?"

Malfoy shook his head. "We had to postpone it so her ancient grandmother could come. The old bint is senile, and decided to go on a trip to Africa. For some reason, Mandy wanted her there. So now, it's on New Year's Eve."

"That's romantic."

"I guess."

There was a long pause, then: "So, you're here awfully late."

He shrugged casually, his mouth twisting up into a smirk. "Throughout the years, the Department of Mysteries has been an invaluable asset to Malfoy Industries, whether they know it or not."

Hermione made a sound of reproach in the back of her throat, relaxing a little. Scolding others for their behavior was an old, familiar habit. "Stealing government secrets, are we Malfoy? Do you really have no scruples?"

He grinned roguishly, and for a moment Hermione could see why Mandy had fallen so hard for the former Death Eater. "I have some morals, but they do not include respect for intellectual property. However, I don't know why you're acting so high and mighty. From what I've heard, you got into a spot of trouble with the law this very evening."

Hermione gaped unattractively. "What? How could you possibly have heard about that, already?" She gasped.

Another devil- may- care grin. "I have my sources. Also, aurors tend to have big mouths."

Hermione's shoulders slumped a little in amazement. "Word spreads like wild fire around here." She murmured.

"The Ministry's gossip mill is the most efficient intelligence network in the world, I think." Malfoy agreed. "It'll be all over the papers by tomorrow morning."

Hermione nodded, resigned. "I know."

There was another moment of silence, interrupted only by the announcement of each floor they passed.

"What did you get arrested for, anyway?"

A raised eyebrow. "I thought your sources would have already informed you."

A shrug, "They're good, but not that good. Not unless I have a real interest."

Hermione sighed for what felt like the millionth time. "I'm being charged with child abuse and neglect, and erratic conduct."

Directly after she finished speaking, the cool female voice announced "Ministry Atrium." And the elevator slid to a stop.

Hermione stepped toward the opening doors, only to be roughly yanked back by her arm. "Wait a second Granger, what did you say?"

Impatiently, she whirled around to face him. "You heard me. Now, why the sudden interest?"

There was a long pause, and Malfoy's lips tightened in thought. "Because I might know something about that." He admitted reluctantly.

"What?" Hermione's voice was high and shrill, and was immediately shushed.

"Honestly, Granger, do you want the whole Ministry to hear you?" He scolded, his eyes darting around the empty atrium before resting on her once more "I'm only telling you this because, for some reason, Blaise is miserable without you. And quite frankly, I'm getting sick of his sulking; he was much more fun when the two of you were playing nicely. So listen well, because I'm only going to say this once."

Hermione nodded silently, struck by the bizarre turn of events.

"As you know, my mother decided to stay at Malfoy Manor after my father was sentenced. Mostly, our paths don't cross much. She has her own life, and I have mine. The other day, I overheard a conversation she was having during one of her tea parties. Once a month, she has a little get- together with some of her friends; they drink tea that's been liberally spiked with Firewiskey, plan charity events, and spread rumors about other people. Anyway, Elena Zabini was there, and I recognized her voice." He flushed a little, shaking his head."We were all obsessed with Elena when we were younger; she was the sexiest woman any of us knew. Now, of course, we know that she's half- mad, and steer clear due to self- preservation... Anyway, the woman is hard to ignore. So I did a bit of eavesdropping, and heard her talking about your kid."

Hermione froze, listening intently. Malfoy continued. "She was saying you and Blaise weren't doing a good job raising him to be the next Zabini heir, and how he didn't even speak Italian, and if she could just raise him herself, she 'wouldn't make the same mistakes as she did with Blaise.' At the time, I thought she was all talk; a lot of the older generation is a little bit obsessed about their bloodlines, so it's nothing out of the ordinary. The fact that the whole lot of them were drunk off their Pureblood arses doesn't help. But now, I think she may have taken matters into her own hands."

Hermione's mind whirled, rapidly processing the information. "Why are you telling me this?" Hermione asked.

His mouth tightened. "To be honest, most of us are a little bit fucked up because of how we were raised; our parents were so busy treating us as their heirs that they forgot to treat us as their kids. Plus, there was the whole 'Pureblood mania' thing, which got us absolutely nowhere. To be honest, Alexander isn't a bad kid. You may not be my favorite person, but you seem like a pretty decent mother."

Hermione put her hand to her chest, touched. "Thank you, Malfoy."

He snorted. "Don't get all gushy on me, Granger. This doesn't make us friends, or anything."

She nodded with mock- seriousness. "Of course not."

He turned sharply on his heel, his robes swirling around him. Just before he apparated away, he called over his shoulder, "And will you RSVP to the wedding, already? Mandy got all depressed and shit when Blaise said you weren't coming. Honestly, the two of you need get over yourselves and stop giving us all headaches."

Seeing Hermione's nod, he raised a hand in farewell. "Good luck, Granger." He said, and was gone.

Instead of apparating home herself, she rushed back into the elevator and jabbed the button for the twelfth floor. The elevator slowly rose, causing Hermione to jiggle her leg in impatience. As soon as the doors slid open to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, she bolted out, startling several aurors who were lounging at their desks, obviously waiting to be needed.

As she rushed by the rows of desks, someone behind her called for her to halt; she ignored them. Skidding to a stop in front of Harry's cubicle, she groaned aloud in frustration.

"Ms. Granger, I thought we were done with you tonight!" said Auror Davies from behind her.

Whirling around, Hermione gave him her fiercest glare. "You would be if you'd tell me where Auror Potter has gone." She snarled back.

Looking seriously peeved, Davies rolled his eyes. "He floo'ed out about ten minutes ago." He said, gesturing towards a lit fireplace a few feet away.

"Thanks!" Hermione said quickly, striding towards the bowl of floo powder next to the hearth.

"Hey, that's for official Ministry use only!" Davies called from behind her.

Faking deftness, Hermione ignored the man. After throwing a handful of powder into the fireplace, she stepped into the green flames, shouting "Potter Residence!" and was whisked away.

After enduring the nauseating sensation of floo travel, Hermione soon stepped out into the Potter's kitchen. Despite the lateness of the hour, Hermione she was not alone in the room. A pajama- clad Albus Potter sat on one of the marble countertops, idly swinging his legs as he sipped from a glass of water. Beside him, Luna leaned against the stove, wrapped in a sky blue robe and looking sleepier than usual.

"Aunt Hermione!" Albus squealed, quickly setting down the glass and trying to squirm down from the counter. Unfortunately, his three- year- old legs weren't quite long enough, and Luna quickly provided assistance.

Sweeping the little boy up into her arms, Hermione hugged her 'nephew' tightly. "What are you doing up, little one?" she asked with a grin.

"Albus told me he had woken up thirsty, which may be a sign of Wackspurt exposure. If left unregulated, Wackspurts can cause unpredictable outbursts and stunt one's growth." Said Luna in her dreamy, pleasant voice. "They're easy enough to get rid of, though. Just drink a glass of water and bathe in carrot juice, and they'll go right away."

Hermione regarded her friend with patient acceptance. "I'll keep that in mind, Lu." She said after a moment. "If you don't mind, though, will you get Harry for me? I know he's probably gone to bed by now, but it's quite urgent."

"Of course, Hermione. I'll send him right down. I hope everything turns out okay." Luna smiled, gathering Albus into her arms. "Come on, Albus, it's time for bed. Your carrot bath can wait until tomorrow morning."

Mother and child disappeared down the hallway, and Hermione caught the beginning of Albus' objection, "But Mummy, I don't _like_ carrots!"

Harry, his hair in disarray and clad in flannel pajamas, stumbled downstairs a minute later. "You know, 'Mione, when I said I'd see you soon, I didn't mean _this_ soon." He joked, yawning.

Hermione wrung her hands. "I'm sorry to wake you up, Harry, but I've come into some new information about my trial." She said fretfully.

Harry gestured toward the kitchen table, and they both took a seat on the long wooden benches. "Yeah?" He asked, blinking sleep from his famous green eyes. "What's that?"

"Harry, we've been thinking of the wrong Zabini." She explained, much to his confusion.

"I'm not following."

"Elena Zabini, Harry. You know, the press calls her 'The Black Widow'. Blaise's mother." Hermione began to regal him with Elena's past deeds, along with Malfoy's revelation.

By the time she was finished, Harry looked a little dazed. "Merlin, someone needs to put a muzzle on that woman." He said. "But if it _is_ her, which I don't doubt, you need to tell Zabini- er, Blaise. Legal representation or not, he should probably know his mother is trying to take Xander away from you."

Hermione nodded, brows furrowed. "I was going to, but was afraid of running into Xander if I went to the manor, and if they question me under veritaserum, I'll have to admit I've come into contact with him. Blaise said he'd come over tomorrow, so I'll wait until then. But getting back to the point, I don't think Malfoy will testify, when it comes down to it."

"I don't think he will, either. He really doesn't have anything to gain by testifying, and his word isn't worth much to the Wizengamot. If anyone can find a way to use that information in court, it's Blaise Zabini."

* * *

><p><em>Translations:<em>

"_Termino iter" _(Latin)

-_Termino_: to restrict, limit, or set bounds to

-_Iter_: to travel, journey, walk, or march

* * *

><p>Chapter Twenty- Three Author's Note:<p>

THANK YOU for all of the lovely, inspiring reviews, from both members and guests! I love hearing from you guys, and hope you all continue to let me know what you think. Also, as a reminder: the site blocks out all email addresses automatically, in order to prevent spam. Or something.

Gotbooks93


	24. TWENTY FOUR

**Time's Up by Gotbooks93**

**Summary: **_After successfully hiding the existence of her son for eight years, Hermione is out of luck and time. When the father of her child discovers her secret, their quiet worlds are changed forever. Join Hermione as she takes on the challenges of co-parenting, snake charming, and a crazy little thing called 'love'._

_**Disclaimer: I own many things, but not any recognizable characters, things, or places in the Harry Potter series. Somehow, I doubt that JKR would agree to joint custody…shame, that.**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>CHAPTER TWENTY- FOUR<strong>_

"Thank you so much for meeting with me, Percy." Hermione said for the third time. She nervously smoothed the napkin in her lap. "Your little business card really did the trick."

Percy Weasley sat opposite her, motioning for their waiter. "Yes, they are rather useful. Fred and George made them, actually. And it's absolutely not a problem, Hermione." He assured, placing his order. They had agreed to meet in a little restaurant in the seaside town of Newquay. Ominous clouds rolled overhead, and passersby clutched their coats as they hurried by.

The pair waited until the waiter had drifted away before they continued. "Now, I've already put out some feelers for your case. Little- known fact: Wizengamot members tend to gossip like old women, and they're positively buzzing over this." Percy made slightly disapproving face, his mouth tightening at the edges.

"And how do you think they'll vote?" Hermione asked anxiously. She knew that the answer would probably be insufficient to calm her nerves, but asked anyway.

"So far, it looks like you have the support of most of the women- not uncommon for custody cases- as well as the veterans from the First Great War… they have a bit of a soft spot for you. Your staunchest opposition comes from the members of the Old Families, as well as some of the newer members. They don't make as much, and are more susceptible to a bribe from Mrs. Zabini. Unfortunately, a likely possibility." Percy said, spreading his hands across the tabletop. "Let Zabini know that the Minister has opened up the case to all Wizengamot members, and none of them have scheduled vacation time on Friday, so they'll all be there."

Hermione took a gulp from her glass of water, picturing the last time she was in a Ministry court room: during the infamous "Death Eater Trials" following the end of the war. Not exactly happy memories.

"You need at least thirty votes for an undisputed win. Right now, I'd say you have around nineteen, but I'd say the same for your opposition. The other members are either generally unbiased, or they'll wait to hear public opinion before voting. Re- elections will take place in the spring, and they tend to sway with the population. As a result, I'd advise you do a little PR; hold a press conference, do an interview. The more support you have from the magical community, the better off you will be."

Hermione glanced at her reflection in one of the restaurant's windows. Her hair hung limp, her face was pale, and deep smudges circled her eyes. Quite frankly, she looked a mess. But if it meant getting a few more votes in her favor, she could force herself into heels and brush her hair. For Xander.

"Is there anything else?" She asked, facing her dining companion once again.

"Just one more thing." Percy said, reaching into his leather, monogrammed briefcase. "I have a friend in the Records Office at the Ministry, and he accidentally made a copy of Alexander's government record. It accidently slipped into my briefcase yesterday at lunch." The normally serious wizard winked, sliding a thin, Ministry emblazoned folder across the table. "Of course, only Ministry officials are privy to this sort of information, but these things do happen."

Touched, she smiled gratefully at the wizard. "Thank you, so much, Percy. Really."

He ran a hand through his thinning red hair. "Yes, well, I should be getting home to Audrey and Lucy." He said, standing. "I'll keep you posted on any other developments."

After settling their bill and saying their farewells, the witch and wizard stepped into a side- street, each vanishing with a quiet _pop_.

~(o)~

Her kitchen table had seen better days. At that moment, it was haphazardly strewn with parchment, riddled with long- cold cups of tea, and piled with empty ink bottles. Half a dozen chairs surrounded the table haphazardly, although only two of them were currently occupied by actual people.

"What about Neville? We've worked together for years, and he's known Xander since he was born." Hermione suggested.

Her companion shook his head, scratching something out on one of his lists and re-writing it in the margins. "Longbottom may be a public figure, but he's not good under social pressure." Blaise disagreed. "Put a sword in his hand and he can decapitate an evil, giant snake, but he's dead useless in front of a crowd."

Hermione nodded reluctantly, moving on to the next name on her list. "Alright, what about my cousin Tammy? She's always been fond of him, and she'd probably agree to a memory modification after the trial."

Another shake of the head. "We're already pushing it with your parents; putting two muggles on the stand is a risk, one that Mother's lawyers will probably latch onto in a second. We need to present a small, solid batch of witnesses. People who speak well publically and can be trusted not to say the wrong thing. The Wizengamot likes things to be fairly straightforward- though they like to see a little emotion, here and there- so we'll put Molly Weasley on for a bit of fireworks, then cool things down with Christian."

Hermione suppressed a shiver at the cold, businesslike tone Blaise had adopted. Granted, Blaise had been to court dozens of times, and likely had the Wizengamot's reactions down to a science…but the knowledge that this was _their_ son, that it was _their_ case, surely changed things?

Her unease was obviously apparent on her face, because Blaise did a double take. His gaze softened, and he reached out a hand to cup her face, smoothing it over her cheekbone. "_Mi dispiace, cara_.I just can't let there be any mistakes in this case, no matter how small. We have to win. The alternative is unacceptable." Hermione nodded quickly. "Now, would it be alright if we go over the witness list again?"

Hermione breathed in through her nose, and out through her mouth a few times before she picked up her wand and flicked it toward the table. Ink bottles and tea cups soared towards the sink, and the tea bags plopped into the rubbish bin. Two chairs slid themselves under the table, leaving the remaining ones to stack neatly in the corner. Papers sorted into neat piles, with Hermione occasionally flicking her wand in correction.

Before long, the table had been set to rights, leaving Hermione feeling a tiny bit better. She straightened her spine, and tied her hair back with a blue elastic. That accomplished, she faced Blaise, who looked a little amused. "Alright, who's first?"

"To recap, we've agreed that Potter, Molly Weasley, and one of your parents should take the stand on Friday. Other possibilities include my cousin Christian, Charlie Weasley, Poppy Pomfrey, and Minevrva McGonagall. All good possibilities, but we need to keep the number of witnesses down. The Wizengamot would rather hear from five well- chosen speakers than fifteen half- assed ones."

Hermione nodded. "For my parents, I think they'd both do a good job, but Mum tends to be the less emotional one, and probably better suited for the job."

"Okay. Anyone else?" Blaise asked, dark eyebrows raised.

"What about Xander?" Hermione asked, somewhat hesitant.

"Yes, I thought about him, too." Blaise confided. "We'd have to list him as a desired witness to the Wizengamot before the trail, but I'd rather he be called by our opponents for cross examination. They'd get to question him first, but we'd get to wrap his testimony up. He'll respond to my questions better, and that's what will hopefully stick in the minds of the Wizengamot. Granted, I'm not allowed to unduly influence him before then, but I can try to prep him a little before Friday."

Blaise made a note on the parchment in front of him, his curly hair sweeping attractively over his forehead as he leaned forward. Seemingly of its own volition, Hermione's hand reached across the table and smoothed it out of his eyes.

He allowed her to comb her fingers though his hair for a moment before he nimbly caught her small hand in his larger one. Bringing her fingers to his lips, he pressed each digit to his full, firm mouth, lingering as he caught her bright brown eyes with his own.

"I love you, Hermione." He murmured, and her mouth automatically formed to return the words before she caught herself.

Could she trust him? Could she trust herself, to fall back into love with this devastatingly handsome, clever man?

Blaise had obviously grown tired of waiting for her reply, and gently released her hand, placing it on the table between them. Hermione thought she caught a flash of pain cross his face before it re-assembled into the 'lawyer mask'.

"Now, according to the file Weasley got us, the Ministry has a copy of medical records for Xander, and they're…rather impressive. All of the injuries have been labeled as 'accidents', but they often are when it comes to child abuse cases…"

Hermione and Blaise continued to work for several hours, lighting candles as the late afternoon light faded into evening, then true night.

"The press conference is scheduled for ten o'clock tomorrow morning at Flint and Furgeson, room 103. I'll be here around eight. Please try not to worry; there will only be a dozen reporters, and I'll be there with you the whole time." He said, his eyes taking in her features. Hermione wished she had his confidence.

"I should go, and you should get to bed." Blaise commented. "We've both got an early morning, and it doesn't look like you got much sleep last night."

Hermione nodded reluctantly, her back popping as she stood. "Let me know if anything new comes up." She instructed.

Blaise acquiesced. "I'm going to floo Christian and see if he can get a portkey here on Wednesday. He can collect Noemi from school, and they can stay with me until the trial."

Walking him to the floo, Hermione smiled faintly. "You'll tell Xander I said hello, and that I love him?" She asked anxiously.

"Of course. Goodnight, _cara_." He stepped into the emerald flames and was gone.

~(o)~

"In conclusion, I vehemently reject any and all accusations of child abuse and neglect in regards to my son. Um… are there any questions?" Hermione asked, leaning into the old- fashioned microphone on the desk in front of her.

Immediately, there was a flurry of movement and calls of "Ms. Granger!" from the reporters assembled before her.

Blaise leaned towards her, whispering "The blonde girl, second back, in the purple suit" into her ear.

Hermione obediently pointed to the blonde reporter, and her colleagues immediately quieted. "Ms. Granger, Heidi Debois, _Witch Weekly_. Should you lose the case, who will take legal custody of Alexander Granger- Zabini?" The young woman asked, her Quick Quotes Quill poised and ready. Hermione tried not to sneer at the device as she answered.

"According to my living will and testament, my parents and his father, Blaise Zabini, will share custody of Alexander. However, at this point it's up to the Wizengamot. We believe that Harry Potter, Luna Potter, and his paternal grandmother, Elena Zabini, are also candidates as Alexander's legal guardians."

The statement left a bitter taste in her mouth, and hoped it didn't show.

Again, the reporters erupted with questions, and Hermione answered several other questions, including the wildly inappropriate "Is it true that your long-time friend, Harry Potter, is not only your child's godfather, but his birth father?"

Hermione gave an unladylike snort, and confirmed that Blaise Zabini was in fact Xander's biological father. "Honestly," She snarked, "do you check your facts at _all_?"

Repressing amusement, Blaise whispered to her. "One more question, then we're done."

She chose a quirky- looking fellow towards the back. "You, in the green robes." Hermione said, pointing.

"Ms. Granger, Renold Twiller, _International Magic_." The man said, his speech tinged with a faint accent. "Natalia Giordano, a cousin of your son's by marriage, recently made a remark on the case. She said, 'Neither Blaise Zabini nor Hermione Granger are fit to be raising that child. If anyone should have guardianship, it's my cousin Elena Zabini.' Do you have a rebuttal to this statement?"

Up to that point, Hermione thought she had done rather well. Her emotions had largely been held in check, and the answers came rather easily.

However, her composure was nearly lost with her reply. Taking a deep breath, she let loose.

"_Firstly_, my son and I have been in the same vicinity with Mrs. Giordano for no more than three hours in our entire lives. Hardly enough time for her to make such a judgment, if you ask me." Her voice cracked like a whip, and the reporter seemed to shrink in his seat. "_Secondly_, I think Mrs. Giordano should stop judging other person's parenting skills, and focus more on her own, as both her daughters would likely attest.

"And _thirdly_, I love and know my son more than anyone else on the planet. While Elena Zabini may be Alexander's grandmother, I think both his emotional happiness and intellectual growth would severely diminish under her care." She opened her mouth to continue, but was quickly silenced by Blaise.

"That will be Ms. Granger's final statement for today. Thank you all for coming, and please contact myself or my legal team for any further concerns. Thank you." With that, Blaise snapped the microphone case closed, and put a firm hand on the small of her back as he guided her off the stage and through the law office.

Once they were safely sealed inside Blaise's office, Hermione collapsed into one of his visitor's chairs.

"Was that bad?" she asked, already regretting her harsh words.

"It could definitely be worse." Blaise said, shrugging as he flipped through a file. "It might even be good. You were very composed during the first half, but people love a little drama. The 'I love my son more than anyone else on the planet' line was gold."

"It wasn't a _line_, Blaise!" Hermione replied sharply. "You know that I miss my son, and I _do_ love him more than anyone else!"

Blaise nodded levelly, choosing to keep calm in the face of her frustration. "I know you do, although I think I love him just as much, if not more." He smiled softly, though Hermione knew it was to cover up the vulnerability that came with loving someone else with all you had. "But you're missing the point. When the stakes are as high, you've got to play the game."

"But I don't know the game! I don't know the rules!" She exclaimed.

"Well, then it's lucky you have me." Blaise soothed. "I live the game every day, and I know the rules like the back of my hand. Have a little faith."

~(o)~

Hermione was seated at her desk, grading essays, and trying not to tear her hair out in frustration. Minerva had kindly found a substitute to teach her Charms classes for the week, but the grading continued to fall to Hermione. She was trying to count her blessings.

Again and again, her sixth year students confused the _Avifors_ charm and the _Avis_ spell, although she had explained the difference not once, but _twice_ in class last week. The overall quality of the essays had been steadily decreasing as the Yule holidays drew near, and already she was fed up with the half- hearted attempts of some of her students.

She was momentarily distracted as a knock was heard at the door. Calling a "come in", she bent her head back to the parchment for a moment. Whoever was visiting could wait for a minute.

This decision was quickly cast aside, though, when a throat cleared rudely. She was briefly reminded of a similar disruption coming from Delores Umbridge.

The sound was not high enough to be one of her students, not that any of them would dare to be so disrespectful. Looking up sharply, she was astonished to see none other than Mr. Lang, the ministry official in charge of Xander's case file. He was dressed in his Ministry robes, and Hermione felt the sudden urge to palm her wand. The man's beady, pale blue eyes still made her skin crawl.

"Mr. Lang, what a surprise." Said Hermione, forcing cheerfulness into her voice as she stood. Adhering to social niceties, she reached out and shook his proffered hand, although the idea of touching him made her rather uncomfortable. His palm was moist, and he held her hand for a moment longer than what was socially acceptable. Pulling it back, she forced another smile.

"Won't you sit down?" she invited, gesturing to the upholstered chairs across from her desk. As he lowered his body into one, his eyes lingered inappropriately on her chest, which was encased in professional button- down dress robes. Uncomfortable again, she wrapped her teaching robes more securely around her, hiding his view. His eyes darted up to hers, his gaze unapologetic. The smile dropped from her face, and her tone lost most of its friendliness.

"I must say, I wasn't expecting you." She said bluntly. "What brings you to Hogwarts?"

"I don't know if Healer Stiles mentioned, but I'm a case worker for magical children in Britain. Rather like your muggle social workers, from what I understand. I was called to Hogwarts to remind students about forbidden magic during their holidays, and decided to pop in to say hello. See how you were doing, given…the state of things."

"The state of things." Hermione repeated dully. "I'm doing well, I guess. Waiting for the trial to begin so I can get Alexander home."

"And how has he been, thus far?"

"Well, I haven't talked to him directly, of course, but his father says he's bearing up amiably. A bit home sick, I suppose." Hermione replied, immediately seeing through the man's poorly veiled attempt to slip her up. "Blaise has Alexander working on the exercises for ECES every other night, and I think it's doing him some good."

"Good, good." Said Lang distractedly. His gaze had drifted around her office as she spoke, and he was currently peering at a photograph on the wall. Standing, he moved over to it, and Hermione tensed as he came across to her side of the desk. She twisted in her chair a little, reluctant to let him out of her sight.

Plucking the framed photograph from where it was mounted on the wall, Lang's fingernail tapped the glass surface of the picture as he gazed at it. Hermione was startled at his audacity. The man had come into her office uninvited, leered at her, and was now wandering around her office, picking things up with his grimy hands.

_Plink, plink, plink_. The tapping continued as Lang looked at the picture. Hermione realized it was a wizarding photograph of Blaise and Xander, building a sand castle in Italy. It was one of her favorites, and the sight of Lang touching it twisted her stomach.

"This is Alexander's father, then?" Lang asked suddenly.

"Yes, Blaise Zabini." Replied Hermione, her brow furrowing. "You've met him before, remember? I believe you're friends with his mother, Elena."

Lang looked up suddenly, his blue eyes drilling into her. Hermione shifted uneasily in her seat. Previously, she had categorized the man as a creep, but ultimately insignificant. Now, though, she was beginning to feel threatened, and mentally located her wand. It was in the top, right drawer of her desk, not within easy reach.

"Elena Zabini is an enchanting woman." Lang said suddenly, still staring at her. "Beautiful, but powerful, too."

Hermione nodded slowly, silent. Without looking away, Lang replaced the photograph on its hook, and turned his body towards her. "But power is a funny thing." He continued, his voice falsely casual. "It can come in all shapes and sizes. Some people are powerful because of the people they know. Others have power because of the things that they own. And some people have power because of the things that they can do." At this, he took a slow step forward, bringing himself closer to where Hermione sat.

"Take me, for example. I don't have a big office or house. But I have power because I can change the circumstances of the people I'm in charge of. Sometimes that's the best kind of power, I think. Because no one notices when little things start to happen." He took another slow step towards her, and Hermione slid herself into a standing position, not breaking eye contact. "Little things like slipping a bit of confidential information to certain people."

He took another step, and Hermione took one backwards. "Take the press, for example. They're all in an uproar, thanks to your little trial. Everyone's got an opinion. What if, say, the _Daily Prophet_ were to find out that the 'Zabini- Granger Love Child' was very highly magically gifted. The kind of child that would need special care and attention from his parents. And even then, who's to say that someone from a non- magical could raise such a child? Surely, such a _special_ child would need someone who had grown up in the magical community, surrounded by other magical people."

Hermione forced out a disdainful scoff. "Alexander has been primarily raised her at Hogwarts, one of the most magical places in the world, Mr. Lang."

Lang smiled, shrugged. "You know that. I know that. But people tend to get twitchy when they remember another _special_ young wizard, one who grew up in an unhappy environment, and got certain ideas of grandeur. Tom Riddle is still fresh in a lot of people's minds. Sure, he came from an orphanage. But your little one comes from… what's the term?... oh, yes. A _broken home_. His single mother, a _muggle born_ witch, who didn't even know to get him tested at first, is in charge of a potentially volatile child. His father is a suspected Death Eater. And his medical records show him spending quite a bit of time in the local hospital wing for various 'accidental' injuries."

Hermione sat, flabbergasted. The sheer audacity of the man's words left her speechless, and in the back of her mind she carefully remembered his accusations.

"What if someone got a hold of that story? Someone from the _Prophet_, someone with a real talent to sway the minds of their readers. Someone like Rita Skeeter." Lang smiled cheerily, showing off slightly yellowed teeth.

Hermione glared at the thinly veiled threat. "Skeeter knows better than to cross me."

Lang's smile grew as he took yet another step. At that point, he was only a few feet from her. "I'm going to assume that you haven't read today's addition of the _Prophet_, my dear, so let me fill you in. There's a small article in the back which has a list of new animagus licenses. Miss Skeeter is on that list. So imagine my surprise when I hear the woman herself had stopped by my department this very day, looking for Alexander's case worker.

"There's a file sitting in my office right now, Ms. Granger, with a full copy of Alexander Granger's records, along with some of my own _personal_ notes. If I were to send that file…well, Ms. Skeeter wouldn't have any trouble writing her article. As a matter of fact, it might just be ready for the front page of this evening's edition of the _Prophet_. And we both know the importance of public opinion in a case such as this."

For a moment, the room was very still.

Suddenly, Hermione reached for her desk drawer, snatching up her wand. Just as her hand closed around the cool, reassuring piece of wood, Lang lunged for her, grabbing both wrists with his surprisingly strong hands. Using his tight grip to his advantage, he swung her around so that her back was slammed against the stone wall behind her. A second later, he had pinned her with his body. Hermione's mind reeled, shocked that the sudden escalation of events.

"Do you know what Blaise Zabini said to me in the hallway, that day, Ms. Granger?" Lang's mouth was right next to her ear, his hot, foul- smelling breath washing over her face. "He told me not to touch what belonged to him. He told me that 'an insignificant runt like me' shouldn't be allowed to _look_ at you, let alone touch you. But I have news for him, my dear Ms. Granger. Just because he's from one of the Old Families doesn't mean he's powerful. It just means he's a spoiled brat that likes to push other people around. And I for one am _sick_ of being pushed."

With each sentence, Lang's hands held hers tighter until her wand clattered from her hand onto the floor.

"Mr. Lang, please think about what you're doing." Hermione tried to keep her voice strong, but reasonable. "I'll admit, Blaise did speak rashly. But you really don't want to do this. It could lead to an absolute riot, not to mention personal difficulties for my family."

Although Lang was only a few inches taller than Hermione, his height advantage allowed him to leer directly down her body, into the slight gap left by her shirt. "My dear Ms. Granger, it seems you have misunderstood me. I wish _you_ no personal difficulty. As a matter of fact, that's the whole reason I'm here. You see, I wanted to give you a chance to put away this whole, silly mess."

"What do you want?" asked Hermione warily.

"If you comply with my request, I would be more than happy to destroy my correspondence with Ms. Skeeter, never to be spoken of again."

"And your request _is_?" Hermione prodded, impatient.

Lang's wide, lascivious grin spread across his face again. Instead of speaking right away, he deliberately rocked his hips into hers, and Hermione could feel the unwelcome evidence of his arousal against her hip. Her mouth dropped open in shock. Surely, this scum bag didn't mean…

"You're a beautiful woman, Hermione." Lang said, his nose nuzzling against her ear. "This could be a very beneficial arrangement for both of us. You can sleep easy, knowing the press- and consequently, the public- will continue to back you in the events ahead. You can know I won't testify as a witness at your trial. And I get to bed a lovely young woman. Of course, it's an added bonus that you also happen to be the darling of that ponce, Zabini."

Furious, Hermione attempted to shove her knee into the man's most vulnerable area. Using his slightly- bigger thigh, Lang blocked the attempt. "A good attempt, my dear, but no dice. Besides, I like my women fiery."

Hermione opened her mouth to start screaming, trial or no trial. This had gone on far enough. Then a voice called from the classroom.

"Oi, 'Mione?" Came the voice. "Professor _Graaaaangerrr_. It's Gred and Forge! You here?"

Just as she began to shout a reply, Lang clamped a hand over her mouth. "Say nothing." He hissed, and Hermione detected a trace of fear in his gaze. Against her will, Hermione and her captor were silent.

For several long moments, she could detect no sound; dread pooled in her stomach and she prayed that the twins hadn't walked away. Then, the door to her office was thrown open, the heavy wood making a solid _clunk_ as it hit the stone wall.

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><p><em>Translations:<em>

"_Mi dispiace" _(Italian)

-A statement of regret or apology; I'm sorry

_"Cara"_(Italian)

-Term of endearment; dear, darling

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><p>Chapter Twenty- Four Author's Note:<p>

Reviews feed the muse!

Gotbooks93


	25. TWENTY FIVE

**Time's Up by Gotbooks93**

**Summary: **_After successfully hiding the existence of her son for eight years, Hermione is out of luck and time. When the father of her child discovers her secret, their quiet worlds are changed forever. Join Hermione as she takes on the challenges of co-parenting, snake charming, and a crazy little thing called 'love'._

_**Disclaimer: I own many things, but not any recognizable characters, things, or places in the Harry Potter series. Somehow, I doubt that JKR would agree to joint custody…shame, that.**_

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><p><em><strong>CHAPTER TWENTY- FIVE<strong>_

In a second, the Weasley twin's faces went from playful and expectant to horrified and furious. Faster than she could blink, both twins had fired off a _stupefy_, hitting Lang solidly in the back. The man went down hard, his head making a dull _thud_ as it hit the stone floor.

"Good to see the old reflexes are still sharp." Hermione feebly joked, a slight wheeze in her voice.

For once, though, neither twin so much as cracked a smile. "So, it was a good thing we stunned him?" George asked, nudging Lang's prone form with the toe of his lilac shoe. "We didn't catch you in the throes of a secret, torrid affair?"

"Yes and no." Hermione replied, making a wide circle around Lang as she moved to her desk.

The redheads exchanged a startled glance, causing Hermione to laugh weakly as she forced down the churning feeling in her gut.

"Yes, I am glad you stunned him. And no, I was not having an affair." She clarified, much to their relief.

While Fred conjured her a glass of water, George proceeded to cast a careful _Incarcerous_, causing a length of rope to shoot from his wand, wrapping around Lang's body before tying itself into a neat knot. Hermione quickly scribbled out a note:

_B~I need you at Hogwarts, __now__. Home floo will be open. ~H_

She sent the missive off with Hermes, watching him disappear into the inky sky. That accomplished, Hermione considered summoning McGonagall, but ultimately decided against it as she gazed at Lang's bound form on her office floor. Normally, she would be all for a formal report against the depraved Ministry worker, but the looming court date seemed to affect her judgment.

"You know," Fred drawled from where he was sprawled in one of her visitor chairs, "it's not often that the great Hermione Granger plays damsel in distress to mere mortals such as ourselves."

"Yes, well, don't get used to it." She said, trying to still the shaking of her hands. She could feel the pressure of Lang's hand against her mouth, and she unthinkingly wiped her lips with the back of her hand. "Not that I'm not grateful, but what are the two of you doing here?"

"Business." The twins chimed simultaneously, raising her suspicions.

"Weasley's Wizard Wheezes business? In Hogwarts? With Minerva McGonagall as headmistress?" Hermione questioned, her eyebrows shooting up her forehead.

"Well," George hedged. "Darling Minnie doesn't exactly know we're here at the moment. Last time we tried to get onto school grounds, there was apparently concern for a student riot… Or something."

She smirked. "'Or something' being?"

"Dear ole' Filch apparently doesn't miss us as much as we miss him." Fred admitted. "Well, us _or_ our products. No sense of humor, that one."

"Yes well, I shudder to think of what lunatics will apply to be the next Hogwarts caretaker, when Filch finally croaks." She shuddered delicately. "So, business?"

With a practiced flourish, both twins pulled several lime- green scrolls of parchment from their robes. "During your last visit to Diagon Alley, at the end of the summer, we mentioned the possibility of collaboration between ourselves and a certain Charms mistress."

"If I remember correctly, you were planning to visit several months ago." Hermione remarked, recalling their letter.

"Indeed, indeed." George agreed. "However, we are no longer the adorable, clever scamps you knew as a schoolgirl. Now, we're important business men."

"_Wealthy_, important business men!" His twin interjected gleefully.

"Yes. Wealthy, Handsome, Important business men who are very busy running their wildly successful business." George asserted, getting an approving nod from Fred. "And so our latest invention has taken a backseat to other priorities. But no longer!""

Silence settled around the office, and both twins leaned forward expectantly. Hermione cleared her throat. "Er, well, go ahead."

As if released from tightly coiled springs, the twins leapt to their feet, flicking their wands to unroll the scrolls. "Ms. Granger, we present to you the newest and coolest Weasley's Wizards Wheezes creation: the scroll sorter!"

Hermione gestured for them to bring their scrolls closer and peered at them closely. Her brows knitted, and for a moment the only sound was the creaking of some old pipes. Then, "Fred, George, this is some really impressive magic." She commented, taking one scroll, filled with notes and blueprints into her hand. As she read, she could feel her mind sinking deeper and deeper into the details of the invention. Mentally constructing the item and making modifications. After several minutes, Hermione sat back in her chair and regarded the twins.

"I really don't give you two enough credit." She confessed.

"A common mistake." Said George.

"One of the many woes of the master prankster." Agreed Fred.

"No matter how clever you are, though, you couldn't have picked worse timing." Hermione said, shaking her head. "In case you two have been living under a rock, I have a court hearing to face in the morning; one which will likely change the entirety of my future."

"Oh, we know about your little tango with the Wizengamot." Fred said, his voice sly. "We just thought we'd drop by and remind you of this project, along with the countless others you've helped develop over the years. Provide a little…encouragement."

Instantly, the twins began pulling out a plethora of other scrolls from their robes, their colors ranging from shocking tangerine to calming midnight blue. Hermione immediately recognized several blueprints right away: The Dark Trinket Detector, The Color Code Quill, and No- Fill Notecards. Hermione smiled, amused by the wizarding world's love for alliterations.

"Merlin, I had forgotten about some of these." Hermione remarked, unrolling another scroll. As she flipped through the pages, she began to notice a trend: each page had a comment or correction in her writing along with _HG_ next to it.

"Harry may have given us our start-up money, but you've helped create some of our most useful items. Consequently, both Freddie and I consider you an unofficial silent partner." Said George.

"Thanks, guys." Hermione said with a faint smile. The three continued to reminisce about various products- both successful and failed.

"Don't know why the Firefly Frenzy never caught on." Fred mused. "Thought that one'd be a sure- fire hit."

Hermione snorted. "Because _everyone_ wants to be followed around by a swarm of blinking bugs every night."

"It could happen!" Fred insisted, much to the amusement of his companions.

"So, who's the unlucky bloke?" George asked, switching topics as he sent a sour look towards the floor.

"An unwanted acquaintance, I suppose." Hermione said, keeping her answers vague. Although she trusted her friends, they could not afford an accidental slip up by either one with the case so close at hand. "I think I've got it from here, boys. You have my deepest thanks, of course."

"What, you're not going to let us treasure this rare moment of heroism and friendship? Saving our dear, dear friend from certain chaos?" George asked, aghast.

"Yeah! I mean, normally we're the one _causing _the chaos." Fred cackled.

Giving her best no- nonsense stare, Hermione flung a pointed finger at the door to her classroom. "As much as I've enjoyed your visit, I'm afraid I have other things to take care of. Out. _Now_." She ordered, raising a single brow in mock intimidation.

As they gathered their violet cloaks from the back of her visitor's chairs, the twins continued to chuckle. "Still freaks me out a little when she acts like a mum." Fred stage- whispered to his brother as they departed. Their hoots of laughter echoed down the hallway as they left. Hermione made a mental note to check for an increase in Weasley's Wizard Wheezes products in the days to come.

"Oh, wait!" She shouted suddenly, noticing the heaps of parchment that still covered her desk. "Fred, George! You forgot the blueprints!"

However it seemed her calls were four naught, as neither twin re-appeared in the doorway. Her sigh of resignation was cut short as a rapid knock came from behind her. The door lead to her and Xander's rooms, and she hurried to answer it.

She cracked it open a little. Blaise stood on the other side, his hair in disarray. Upon spotting her, he began to push the door open, only to be deterred by Hermione.

"Give me your wand, please." She said resolutely, holding out a hand.

"Excuse me?" Blaise asked, one eyebrow arching.

"Your wand. I don't think it's a good idea for you to have it, for the time being, so I need you to trust me."

After giving her a long, measured look, Blaise reached into the inside pocket of his suit, withdrawing his wand. He hesitated before putting it into her palm, withdrawing a little.

"What was the first Christmas gift you got me?" He asked.

"A signed copy of _Magical Law and Government: A Guide _by Samuel McNewmara." She replied readily, stretching her palm out once again, and was soon rewarded as he set the cool wood inside her palm.

"Now may I come in, Professor Granger?" He asked.

"You may, Mr. Zabini." She allowed, stepping aside.

The dark haired Slytherin stepped into her office, and Hermione opened her mouth to speak, hoping to cut off Blaise's inevitable fury over Lang's presence. She might have managed it, too, if the man in question hadn't emitted long, pathetic moan from the other side of the desk.

Brows knitting, Blaise moved around the offending piece of furniture with quick, strong strides. She knew the exact moment he spotted the sleazy Ministry worker.

Blaise's rage engulfed him like a cloak. His hands fisted, his shoulders tensed, and Hermione could see the defined muscles of his back become taunt, even though his tailored blazer.

"Blaise, wait. Hear me out." Hermione said quickly from behind him.

Her words were in vain, however, as Blaise began to shrug out of his jacket, his eyes remaining on Lang's wiggling body. Confused, Hermione was silent as she watched the man before her. Realizing she still held both their wands in her hand, she pulled open a drawer of her desk and deposited both inside.

Hearing the drawer open and close, Blaise glanced at her over his shoulder.

"Sweetheart, if you think the lack of a wand is going to keep me from teaching this _pezzo di merda_ a lesson, you haven't been paying attention." He admonished, his fury lurking beneath the silky smooth tones of his voice.

"Weren't you the one that told Xander that proper wizards fight magically, not physically?" Hermione asked, desperately trying to reason with him.

"I did," the hot-headed Italian agreed, deftly removing his cufflinks and depositing them on her desktop. "But in the case there is no wand to be had, a man may resort to other methods. In my experience, my fists can do the job quite nicely." He finished rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, and gave Lang a swift kick in the ribs. His action caused the unconscious man to re- enter the sentient world.

Lang gave a groan, squinting against the light. As his vision focused, his mouth twisted into a snarl. "Oh, it's you. You piece of Italian filth! Did your little whore tell you she's mine now? I can't wait to put her little mudblood mouth to work, the stupid, ungrateful bitch-"

His venomous tone reminded her a little of the crazed Barty Crouch Jr., and she flinched away from the memory. Lang's breath wheezed out as Blaise hauled him off the floor, slamming his body against the hard wood of her door. This was immediately followed by Blaise's fist connecting solidly with the other man's jaw, and Hermione heard a slight _crunch_.

"Can't fight like a man, eh?" Lang wheezed out, spitting a wad of blood onto the floor. "Have to wait until your opponent is tied up and unable to defend himself? Isn't that just like an Italian. Cowards, the whole lot of you."

In an instant, the conjured ropes fell to the floor, and Blaise took a step back. Lang gained his footing, raised balled fists in front of his chest, and looked a little shocked. His shocked expression was quickly replaced by pain as Blaise's fist shot out, quick as lightning, landing in the center of his gut. A hand instantly clamed around Lang's neck, and Blaise gave the smaller man's head another good smash against the wall.

As the air _whoosh_ed out of Lang, Hermione regained her senses. Diving for the desk, Hermione scooped her wand out.

"Blaise, _stop_." She ordered loudly. Both men stilled, obviously having forgotten about her.

Seeing her wand trained directly at him, Blaise glanced at Lang, then back to her; obviously weighing his odds.

"Blaise, I mean it. _Stop_." She stressed, looking at him pleadingly. She had already decided: if he didn't cease and desist immediately, she would stun both of them. But something stayed her hand; something inside her wanted to test this man she cared so deeply for.

Another second ticked by, and Blaise still looked vaguely indecisive.

"Please. For me." Hermione spoke again, her voice quieter.

Looking at her hard, Blaise's shoulders sagged a little as he released his grip on the man before him.

Lang gave a rasping laugh, leaning against the wall. "Well, will you look at that? The big, bad pureblood ponce has been tamed by some little mudblood bitch."

Before Blaise had a chance to lash out, Hermione had fired off an _Oppugno_. She allowed the small yellow birds peck at Lang's screaming face for a few moments before canceling it. Lang's relief was short- lived as Hermione cast a _Stupify_. She and Blaise watched dispassionately as he crumpled to the floor.

"You know, too many _Stupify_'s can cause some serious brain damage, if they're cast too close together." She commented, her eyes still trained on Lang.

"A _Stupify _wouldn't have been necessary if you'd have let me finish the job. Why did you stop me?" Blaise inquired angrily, only to gain silence as a response.

"Hermione?" Blaise called again. Huffing out a frustrated breath, he strode towards her. He stopped in front of her, blocking her view of Lang's bloodied body.

"_Hermione_." He stressed her name, cupping her shoulders with firm but gentle hands. Giving her a shake, he asked again. "Why did you have to stop me?"

"Because at the moment, you're psychotic bitch of a mother is trying to steal our child from us, the press is in a frenzy, and we're due in court in a little more than twelve hours from now! Because we have enough stuff on our plates, without a dead body to take care of!" She snapped, jerking from his grasp. "How could you do that, losing your cool like that?"

"Oh, and I'm supposed to just let him storm in here, talk a bunch of _merda_, and take advantage of my woman?" Blaise shouted, throwing his hands into the air.

"_Your_ woman?" Hermione scoffed, hands on her hips. "Do you really think now is a good time to go caveman? And I hate to break it to you, but I belong to no one but myself."

Blaise's hands buried themselves in his hair, and he tugged hard. "Why? Why do I have to be in love with such a crazy woman?" He asked the ceiling.

Unamused, Hermione gave him an exasperated look. "Will you stop being such a drama queen and help me figure out what we're doing with him?"

Blaise glanced behind him, looking at Lang. "Give me a minute." He ordered, striding back into her personal quarters.

Hermione heard the floo flare, and Blaise's voice. While she could hear him carrying on a conversation, the words were muffled. While she waited, she glanced around her office. A chair had been overturned at some point, and Fred and George's multi- colored scrolls still littered the top of her desk. She began to straighten the office manually, knowing she would mentally benefit from it more the non-magical way.

As she tied the blueprints together, Blaise returned. Accompanying him was a familiar face.

"Christian!" Hermione greeted Blaise's cousin. The man's red-brown hair, soft green eyes, and easygoing grin were a welcome sight.

"_Salve_, Hermione." The man greeted, giving her a brief but tight hug. "I hear you two ran into a spot of trouble."

"You could say that." Hermione agreed, her eyes drawing his attention to the floor. She quickly explained the afternoon's events, cringing as she relayed Lang's lascivious offer.

Christian gave out a long, low whistle. "My, my, you weren't kidding, were you Blaisey?"

"_Cara_, I hope you realize we can't just let Lang wander off, and we don't have time to do a proper memory modification." Blaise said to Hermione, gaining a reluctant nod. He turned to Christian, looking serious. "He needs to make a visit to Scampini's, I think."

Christian's eyebrows shot up, and his gaze locked with his cousin's. The seemed to have a silent conversation before Christian nodded. "Right. Let me go see if they have a … spot open. Hermione, love, do you mind if I use your floo for a moment?" He requested.

Hermione gave her consent and the man slipped out of the room, leaving her alone with Blaise. His eyes caught on the Weasley's scrolls in her arms.

"Are those Weasley's Wizard Wheezes papers?" He asked, nodding towards the pile.

"Hmm? Oh, yes. Fred and George were the ones that got Lang off of me. They originally came by to reminisce about past projects."

"Past projects?" he questioned, gesturing to the scrolls. She relinquished the pile, explaining as he examined each one.

"Fred, George, and I have worked on a few WWW products over the years. Unofficial consultations, I suppose. They always offer to give me royalties for the products I worked on, but it doesn't seem right. They keep my name on the patent, and that's enough."

Blaise nodded slowly, still looking intently through the pile. "Would you mind if I took these home for a bit?" He requested.

Confused, Hermione shrugged. "I suppose not." She agreed.

After a few more minutes, Christian poked his head back in the door. "Blaise, they're ready for us. Their floo will be open for a few more minutes, but we best hurry."

Blaise nodded, shrinking the scrolls and shoving them into a pocket. He collected his wand from Hermione's desk, giving her a pointed look. She returned his gaze evenly, refusing to show any remorse.

"Will you be okay?" He asked her.

"I'll come back and stay with her for a bit." Christian interjected calmly. Blaise shot him a look, which Christian batted away carelessly. "Calm down, _stupido_. I'll help you drop him off, but Scampini is going to want to talk to you about… details, and then you need to get back to Alexander and Naomi.."

Blaise sighed. Both men cast _Wingardium Leviosa_ and levitated Lang's body, moving towards Hermione's private floo. If Lang's head accidently hit the walls a few too many times on the journey, no one present cared enough to comment.

"Don't let this fool keep you up too late, _cara_." Blaise said as he chucked a handful of floo powder into the fireplace. "I'm going to get everything ready for the case tomorrow, and you should try to get some sleep; dark circles under the eyes tend to make one look guilty. We'll meet tomorrow morning at the Ministry atrium at six o'clock. With any luck, we'll be able to avoid the majority of the press at that hour."

Hermione agreed steadily, and a moment later Blaise, Christian, and Lane disappeared into emerald flames. After a few minutes, Christian re-appeared, and Hermione invited him to take a seat on the couch while she made a pot of tea. Before long they were both settled onto the couch with mugs clasped between their hands.

"I suppose there'll be a cover- up story?" Hermione ventured, offering Christian sugar.

He declined, taking a sip of his black tea. "Unfortunately, Mr. Lang suffered a psychotic break a mere day before his appearance in court. If necessary, several witnesses are ready to attest to his unstable behavior, which included public masturbation and screaming conspiracy theories to invisible companions." Christian said casually as he fiddled with his pocket watch.

Hermione stared, her mouth slightly agape. The words flowed so easily from the man's mouth, she would have completely believed him, had she not known the truth.

"Thankfully an anonymous benefactor came forward, offering to pay room, board, and medical bills if he would be admitted to Edwardo Scampini's Home for the Mentally Insane, a mental hospital just outside of Ragusa."

"Ragusa?" She questioned.

"A small city in southern Sicily." Christian supplied. "Of course, Lang's estranged sister and only living relative will immediately accept the generous offer, stating- and I quote- 'They better be ready for that crazy bastard.' End quote."

"What if someone comes looking for him? A co-worker, or a neighbor."

Christian gave her an indulgent look. "Darling, do you really think that _schifezza_ is the first person to be admitted to Edwardo Scampini's Home for the Mentally Insane? The Zabinis have been using that line for hundreds of years. As a matter of fact, the place does appear to exist- 'appear' being the key word, here- thanks to a paranoid but ultimately practical ancestor."

Hermione sat back in her chair, deep in thought. On one hand, Lang was a slimy, no-good blackmailer and potential rapist. Chances were, she wasn't the first woman he had coerced into sleeping with him. He provided slanderous lies in her court case, one that might take away the person she loved most in the world, Xander. Overall, not a good guy.

But then her conscience kicked in; as despicable as the man was, he was still a human being. And if she left it up to Blaise and Christian, Hermione couldn't say that he would be treated as a human. The possibilities of his 'punishment' began to list in her mind: starvation, beatings, curses, and an array of creative but painful hexes.

Hermione had enough guilt that kept her awake at night.

"What will happen to him?" She asked hesitantly.

Christian, who had wandered over to the window as she thought, turned his head in her direction.

"That's up to Blaise." He answered simply, shrugging.

"Why?"

"It was his family that was hurt. He'll decide on Lang's punishment."

Hermione bit her lip, looking away. The confused look in Christian's eyes unsettled her a little. Like he didn't understand that what would happen was _wrong_.

She knew Christian was a good person at his core. He obviously cared for her, as one would a sister- in- law, or a close friend. But he had been raised with the same values as Blaise; eliminate the competition. Never let your guard down. And above all else, protect your own.

"Where is he now?" She asked quietly.

"Who? Blaise? Lang?"

She thought for a moment before answering. "Both."

"Lang is being held by a friend of ours until Blaise has time to get back to him. Blaise is probably in his office at the manor, getting a few more things ready for the trial tomorrow." Christian responded.

The reply was much as she had expected. She quickly scribbled out a note as Christian collected his cloak.

_B,_

_Please don't go after L. again until we've talked. I know you can probably get away with it without me knowing, but I'm asking as a personal favor. Tell Xander I love him, and will see him soon. Don't work yourself too hard; I need you sharp tomorrow morning. _

_Love, H_

She hesitated a little before writing the valediction, before deciding that she was too tired to care. Let Blaise make of it what he would of the four letter word. Folding it up carefully, Hermione handed the note to Christian, along with the jar of floo powder.

"Give this to Blaise, if you will, and tell Noemi I said 'hello'." Hermione requested, returning his embrace.

"No problem." Christian assured her as he took a handful of the green powder. "I'll see you bright and early tomorrow morning, yeah?"

Hermione nodded, unconsciously winding her arms around her torso. A few moments later, the fire roared with green flame and Christian was gone.

~(o)~

The Head Warlock struck his gravel against its block, and the hall descended into near- silence. Blaise and Hermione stood in the middle of the oval- shaped court room, flanked by seating on either side. Off to their left, the press was nothing more than a flurry of scratching quills and quietly clicking cameras. To their right, both the witnesses and the plaintiffs sat, waiting their respective turns.

Hermione kept her eyes resolutely forward, focusing on a point just over the Under Secretary's left shoulder. The stone there seemed to have been word down by age and a millennia of fidgeting Wizengamot members.

"Let the record show that the case of the Division for Protection of Magical Children versus Granger has begun on Friday, December the fifteenth, in the year Two thousand and twelve. I, High Warlock Carrick Bronzen O'Reiley, hereby call this trial to order…"

And so it began.

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><p><em>Translations:<em>

"_Pezzo di merda" _(Italian)

-An insult or slur. Literally, "piece of shit"

"_Cara" _(Italian)

-Term of endearment; dear, darling

"_Merda" _(Italian)

-Excrement or waste, Literally "shit"

"_Stupido" _(Italian)

-An insult to another person's intelligence; stupid

"_Cara" _(Italian)

-Term of endearment; dear, darling

"_Schifezza_" (Italian)

-Word for trash, filth

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><p>Chapter Twenty- Five Author's Note:<p>

Reviews are to authors as catnip is to cats. Want to make me super happy and a little crazy? Hit that review button!

Gotbooks93


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